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JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 












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JEHANNE OF THE 
GOLDEN LIPS 


BY 

FRANCES G. KNOWLES-FOSTER 


NEW YORK 

JOHN LANE COMPANY 
MCMX 


TZ3 

. K %? 

J 


Published 1910 


Bequest 

Albert Adsit Clemona 

Aug. 24, 1038 

(Not available for exchange) 


All rights reserved. 


AUTHOR’S NOTE 


It will be observed that I have used the French 
spelling of most of the proper names in this story, 
but it must be remembered that the French and 
Provengal element was almost as strong as the Neapol- 
itan, at this Anjevine Court, and according to the 
Chronicles Queen Jehanne’s love for most things 
French was very great. 

All the details are drawn from both Neapolitan 
and Provengal contemporary documents, and save 
that I have taken the liberty of making Queen 
Jehanne absent from Naples after the murder, the 
historical facts have been very closely adhered to, in 
every particular. 

The manuscript of my story was written and 
completed in 1905-6, but owing to my long absences 
in India, Burma, and Egypt, its publication has been 
delayed until the present year. 



JEHANNE 

OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


HISTORICAL FOREWORD 

King Robert I. of Naples, the Two Sicilies, King 
of Jerusalem, Prince of Capua, and Count of Provence, 
surnamed the Wise, ascended his throne a.d. 1309. 
He was twice married, but of his children by his first 
Queen, Violante of Aragon, only one son survived, 
and his second wife, Sancia of Majorca, died childless. 
This son, Charles, Duke of Calabria, “the Just and 
Illustrious,” married Princess Marie de Valois, of the 
French Royal House ; and when he was thirty the 
Florentines prayed him to come and assist their city 
in one of its little wars. In the Arno’s swamps 
he caught a fever whereof he died, leaving twin 
daughters and a broken-hearted wife, who soon fol- 
lowed her husband to the grave. 

King Robert was the more stricken, because his 
son’s death meant the crown passing eventually to 
his brother Jean, Duke of Durazzo, or, failing him and 
his sons, to the King’s other brother, Philippe, Prince 
of Taranto — for all of whom King Robert had scant 
liking. 

Hence he got together all his barons and made 
them swear fealty to Jehanne, the eldest little girl, 
and, in default of her succession, to Marie, the younger. 

B 


2 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


A year or two later he arranged after the fashion 
of the times a child-marriage for Jehanne with Prince 
Andrea, brother to King Ludwig of Hungary. This 
took place by proxy in 1333, when both children were 
about seven. Jehanne grew up in the hot south, a 
true daughter of the sun, strong willed, fiercely impul- 
sive, with all the culture and refinement which the 
most brilliant Court of Europe could give her ; while 
Andrea was reared in sterner, rougher Hungary, by 
a cold, pious mother, Queen Elisabeth. She, as if 
to crush out any frivolity which might survive her 
influence, turned him over to a bigoted monk, one 
Friar Robert of Milletto, with the natural result 
that Andrea, always a dull, serious child, grew up 
dogmatic and sober as any cloister-reared novice. 
When, in 1342, he came to Naples to claim his young 
bride, with his following of fierce boiars (who scorned 
the Neapolitans for popinjays), he took immediate 
umbrage at her joyous gaiety; and this feeling, 
dating from the very moment she met him, all splendid 
in white and gold, at Porta Capuana, grew from mere 
dislike, to fiercer fires. 

In a short space King Robert realised his mistake, 
and that he must take prompt steps to preserve his 
adored grandchild’s power. 

He called a Council, and drew up his will, whereby 
he excluded Andrea entirely from the throne (save 
as Prince Consort) ; and even as Prince Consort he 
stipulated that he must do homage to Jehanne for 
his Duchy of Calabria, and principality of Salerno. 
The counties of Provence, Piedmont, and the Duchy 
of Apullia Jehanne held as her private property apart 
from the crown. Thus Andrea became a powerless 
cypher, and she had control of all her grandsire’s 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 3 


lands and gold ; but until she was twenty-five King 
Robert appointed a Council of Regency, headed by 
the mighty Lord Geoffredo Marzano, Count of Squil- 
lace, High Admiral of Naples, and Philippe de 
Cabassolle Bishop of Cavaillon, the famous scholar, 
the friend of Petrarch, a man with saintly soul yet 
stately skill. But Jehanne had power to dissolve 
the regency and take the helm earlier, but only with 
their unanimous consent — which the astute old King 
thought they would never give. 

Then King Robert, very aged and weary of this 
world, calmly quitted it in 1343, leaving behind him 
the materials for a political earthquake, for the will 
had been kept secret from the Hungarians, and there 
was consternation in Andrea’s party. 

Andrea and Jehanne, now they need no longer 
feign amity to soothe the old King’s troubled mind, 
soon had open disputes. 

The old Queen-Mother came from Buda to Naples 
armed with much money and more spite to subdue 
her refractory daughter-in-law, but uselessly. She 
spat angry words, Jehanne shrugged ; Andrea hec- 
tored, Jehanne stared. They wrote to Pope Clement 
the Sixth (revelling at Avignon), but got only the 
cool reply that his dear departed brother-in-Christ, 
King Robert, had known his own business better 
than any one else, and that Andrea must try to live 
in harmony with his young wife. This letter the Pope 
sent by Messer Francesco Petrarch of Vaucluse, with 
orders to bring him full report of things ere he advised 
further. 

Petrarch’s report is of weight to our tale, so I 
quote him : — 

“ I arrived at Naples the 11th of October. Heavens ! 


4 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 

what a change has one man’s death produced ! 
Religion, Justice, and Truth are banished ! I think 
me at Memphis, Babylon, or Mecca ! 

“ Instead of just, pious King Robert, a little monk, 
fat, bare-footed, shorn-headed, half draped by a dirty 
robe, bent by hypocrisy, lost in debauchery, proud of 
both his affected poverty and the real wealth he 
steadily amasses — this man holds the reins of this 
staggering empire. 

“ He was a Hungarian cordelier, preceptor to 
Prince Andrea whom he entirely sways. He oppresses 
the weak, despises the great, and treats both Queens 
with the greatest insolence. Court and city hate 
him, and tremble though they all plot privily — for 
even to think is denounced as crime. 

“ To him I was forced to present your Holiness’s 
mission and he behaved with more insolence than if 
he had been head of the Saracens. The Bishop of 
Cavaillon alone stands firm in the Church against him, 
but what is one lamb among so many wolves ? ” 

More to this effect, yet Pope Clement took no action, 
and Petrarch consoled himself with his friend Messer 
Giovanni Boccaccio’s company. 

Andrea made such a scene at the reception of the 
Pope’s letter that Jehanne had her chamberlain 
remove all his belongings from her part of Castel 
Nuovo to the Bibirella Tower (usually used by the 
crown’s heir), and inform him that he must henceforth 
occupy it. 

He, knowing what brewed underneath, gave in 
quietly, and with his proud boiars waited till their 
King, Ludwig, should interfere, and thus it went on 
about eighteen months, till the summer of 1345. 

Meanwhile the three factions, Neapolitan, Provencal 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 5 


and Hungarian, rioted, bragged, and slit each other’s 
throats in dark corners of the city and at Court in 
duel and intrigue. The Prove^aux were Jehanne’s 
to a man, and all the Neapolitans save those who 
hoped advancement from the Hungarian quarter, but 
the latter disliked even their Neapolitan supporters. 

Cold pride will not mix with hot pride, and thus 
with them. 

The other two strong spirits at Court were Catherine, 
titular Empress of Constantinople, the widow of 
Prince Philippe of Taranto (Empress by right of her 
mother, a daughter of that famous old crusader, Duke 
Baldwin the Norman), a most imperial lady. She 
was mother to three tall sons, Robert, Louis, and 
Philippe ; of whom anon much more. 

Her rival was the Dowager Duchess of Durazzo, 
Agnes du Perigord, wife to King Robert’s other 
brother Jean, also left a widow with three marriageable 
sons, and until Andrea had actually come to Naples 
to claim his bride she and Catherine had striven hard 
for the young Queen’s hand for their sons, since 
child-marriages were often annulled. 

Yet Andrea’s coming slew both their hopes, but 
Duchess Agnes with a true Frenchwoman’s pertinacy 
fixed her hopes on the second place and by her eldest 
son, young Duke Charles, won it, for he eloped with 
Jehanne’s sister Princess Marie, one dark night over 
Castel Nuovo’s garden wall, and so Duchess Agnes 
laughed, for if Jehanne died childless Marie was Queen. 

The other two Durazzo lads (like their cousins 
Robert and Philippe of Taranto) hung about Court 
gay, fooling, dancing butterflies, but Duke Charles 
had the sterner Anjevine spirit, and to him his mother 
looked confidently. 


6 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Thus Duchess Agnes watched, till the sultry heat 
of August 1345 seemed a fitting atmosphere for the 
brooding storm, and along with her (like a cloud of 
hawks waiting for a staggering charger to fall), a 
legion of other greedy watchers waited on the stagger- 
ing realm. 


CHAPTER I 


(t Jamais nulle foy ne peut estre 
Entre concurrents d’un mesme sceptre ! ” 

CiESAB Nostradamus. 

“ Hey, noble dames ! You ask me for a merry tale 
and shall have it. 

“You will admit that few things are more diverting 
to hear than of a fool in office (whether he be governor 
of a province or a fair lady), who is well befooled by 
those he himself counted as foolish ” 

Messer Giovanni Boccaccio’s mellow voice was 
drowned in a little ripple of laughter from the joyous 
audience grouped about him ; from the pursed lips 
and shrugged shoulders which greeted his last words 
it was evident that they were held to mean more than 
met the ear. 

Boccaccio sat shaded from the hot blue Neapolitan 
sky by a clump of orange trees fragrant with ivory 
flowers, and all a-swing with golden fruit, and his 
laughing, whispering listeners, gorgeous of attire as 
the hovering butterflies above, lolled or sat on marble 
benches or gay silken cushions in the grass. 

The orange grove stood on a slope terraced by a 
marble balcony which overlooked through a gap in 
the palms and olives beyond it, the Bay of Naples, 
where the soft wind blew silver sparkles in a deep 
azure surface. 

Behind, across flowery spaces, rose the southernmost 

7 


8 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


towers of Castel Nuovo, showing blackly in the strong 
sunlight’s clearness. 

As the laugh died and Boccaccio would have 
spoken again, the long-handled, white-feathered, 
Eastern fan of Marie Duchess of Durazzo, descended 
playfully upon his dark curly head. This play held 
a caution, for the Princess of Naples was a firm believer 
in the saying that trees have ears, and at her sister’s 
Court it might be added that every blade of grass 
had a tongue — and that morning volatile Marie had 
observed a few things which made her unusually 
careful. Even what promised to be a very tasty jest 
at the expense of her royal brother-in-law Prince 
Andrea of Hungary, she held too risky just then, even 
though the jester were her favourite Boccaccio, and 
his hearers a chosen few of her best friends, Provencal 
barons and dames, who all sided with her sister 
Queen Jehanne against her stern consort, friends, 
who, indeed, had nicknamed him “Andrea Kill-Joy.” 
So Marie’s fan hastily descended. 

She tilted her fair ruby-circleted head backwards, 
and laughed again, sweet, ringing laughter, like dis- 
tant angelus bells. 

“ Nay, now ’Ser Giovanni ! No more stiff stories 
of governors or lords ! We see too much of them as 
it is. Give us something commoner — something 
picked up in your roamings of the town— a real mad 
humoured jesting tale, to suit our mood.” 

“Tell what we heard last night at the Tazza 
d’Oro, Giovanni,” chuckled Pierre de Lascaris, 
Comte de Tende, from where he had stretched his 
tall lithe person on the broad marble balcony’s edge, 
his shrewd brown Provencal eyes narrowing with 
laughter. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 9 


Boccaccio smiled at the ring of eager faces, but 
shook a firmly negative head. 

“Not with all these youngsters present ! 55 Where- 
at rang a still louder peal of laughter from the gay 
sparks and dashing damsels. 

Foulquet du Bar, Comte de Grasse, nicknamed 
Foulquet le Courtois for his never-failing and exces- 
sive courtesy, a limber slip of a youth, with a trovere’s 
facile tongue, and a hopeless passion for the mighty 
Count di Arcusa’s daughter Erminetta, here struck 
into the conversation. 

“ Tell of a false damsel and a true knight — and find 
models near to hand, messire.” He glanced at the 
object of his sighs, but that lively maiden only tossed 
a disdainful head. 

But Boccaccio was immovable. 

“ King of Story-tellers am I named by you,” he 
said. “ King-like, I tell my choice ; yet I hear my 
subject, Her Highness, and will alter its setting to 
please her ” 

“ No ! no ! I want a merry story,” objected 
Marie hastily. 

Boccaccio’s raised brows and puzzled smile had 
scarce straightened themselves before Guy de Mont- 
leon, a youth from the Marches of Savoy, seeing a 
favourable chance to tell the tale which he brimmed 
over with eagerness to tell, took up the ball of 
speech. 

“ Until ’Ser Giovanni makes up his mind again, 
I can fill the gap for you ! I’ll wager not one of you 
knows the true story of the Count of Lubeck’s wound 
which he got yesterday morning ? ” 

“ He got it from Amaury of Savoy, did he not ? ” 
queried Marie. 


10 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


44 Yes ; but it was in this wise,” began Guy, looking 
pleased as the circle drew even closer together than it 
had done for Boccaccio. 44 Heinrich von Lubeck was 
sitting here in the Gardens, writing laboriously and 
muttering as he wrote. Amaury came by, stopped, 
and heard, 4 The Queen’s eyes are of bluest black — no, 
blackest — no ! ’ 

44 4 How now, Count ? ’ asked Amaury, guessing at 
his doing. 

44 4 1 am completing a portrait of her Majesty for 
my august master Karl (the Emperor-elect). What 
is the precise hue of the Queen’s eyes ? ’ 

44 4 Sir,’ said Amaury very shortly, 4 you are a fool. 
Give over writing.’ 

44 4 Why so ? ’ asked Lubeck, Teutonically slow to 
catch a meaning. 

44 4 Because no mortal scribe can hope to set down 
the half of our Lady’s perfections, though he wear 
out the quills of all the geese that cackled on the 
Capitol ! ’Tis presumption to try — for even when you 
have compared her glorious person with all known 
goddesses, you have yet to reckon with her unspeak- 
ably fair soul — which is impossible. Take my advice 
and call her briefly the sun from high heaven, whose 
glory dazzled you too much for more — and so speak 
truth ! ’ 

Maybe — I will not dispute she is all you say, 
Count,’ said Lubeck, feeling for his sword. 4 But 
none the more am I a fool — and this script must go 
in obedience to the Emperor’s commands.’ 

4 4 4 1 think not— at least, not unaltered,’ said 
Amaury quietly. 

44 Then he called Enrico Caraccioli and me from the 
arbour, where we had been overhearing all this, and 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 11 


with us, and the two Sanseverini lads whom we 
fetched from their tennis-game, for seconds, they 
fought it out there and then. 

“ After ten minutes’ work, Amaury looked at his 
badly-wounded adversary and smiled at me, as the 
others stanched him with their scarves. 

“ ‘ Guy,’ he said, 4 you understand. We fought 
about a throw at dice.’ 

44 4 Yes,’ gasped Lubeck. 4 It is a private quarrel — 
or the Count might get into trouble, seeing I am 
ambassador.’ 

44 At this he fainted away ; and Amaury, picking 
up the parchment, took out an inkhorn and endorsed 
it before putting it back into Lubeck’s pouch, as they 
bore him away. I read over his shoulder : 

44 4 Queen Jehanne is of person tall and slender. 
From her high-held head her red-gold — (scrawl) — 
hair hangs in two great plaits, oft twined with pearls, 
and heavy as silken ropes. Her hands are very fine of 
shape, her arms very white of hue, and them I com- 
pare with the statue of Madame Helen of Troy, that 
is in Your Inlperial hall. Her look of ter gay than 
grave, is yet older than usual at nineteen ; for the 
Southern maids are women while our German lasses 
are yet children. Her eyes are marvellous — 
(scrawl) ’ 

44 4 Tut, Lubeck I None so bad for a beery Minne- 
singer ! — but still folly ! ’ said Amaury, and wrote : 

44 4 Here the surpassing splendour of the Light of 
the World, Madame Jehanne, Queen of Naples, 
Jerusalem and Sicily, Princess of Capua, Duchess of 
Apullia, and Countess of Provence the Golden, 
blinded the too presumptuous scribe, and so he 
ceased.’ 


12 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


“ No, I say Amaury is right : none can describe 

her — that is, none but one of us 55 

“ Hold ! ” cried Foulquet le Courtois, as the buzz 
of approval sank into silence again. “ What are you 
doing, telling us now, when Amaury held you to 
silence ? Answer that, Guy ! 55 

“ Silence ! Pfui ! ” said Guy, shrugging as only a 
Southerner can. “ I need not lose the pleasure of 
telling a good tale when that young idiot Enrico will 
let it all out after his second tall bicciere, at his next 
festa ! Besides ” — with a superb glance around — 
“ am I not with Provengaux ? Do we care who knows 
aught to our Lady’s honour, so long as those dogs in 
Germany hear no garbled accounts ? Amaury said 
nothing of silence — actually, mark you, only that 
they fell out at dice for the benefit of the two San- 

severini, whose tongues are longer than mine ” 

“ We understand perfectly,” said the Duchess, 
casting a quick look at each in turn, and ending with 
Boccaccio. “ The Count of Savoy and the Emperor’s 
ambassador fell out at dice. Good ! There goes 
my sister down the path yonder. Call her, one of you, 
to hear ’Ser Giovanni’s story.” 

“ I go,” said Guy. He vaulted lightly over the 
balcony, and Pierre de Lascaris, whom he managed 
to bump adroitly in passing, and ran after the graceful 
figure in shimmering heliotrope silken robe, which 
loitered down the sandy path. 

To three-quarters of his Southern extravagance, 
Amaury was right. 

Queen Jehanne was one of those rare spirits of 
which the world sees but one or two in a century, and 
which, when they do walk its ways, leave as they pass 
a fiery trace of strife and glory. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 13 


Lubeck was not alone in his failure to describe her 
adequately, for countless chroniclers have tried and 
feebly sunk into poor catalogues of her charms and 
virtues, without realising the woman who owned them. 
The troveres who sang her praises succeed rather 
better, but even they are unable to rise beyond the 
hackneyed expressions of their craft. 

Perhaps the least vague of all is old Caesar Nostra- 
damus, the historian, son of the famous wizard- 
prophet Michael, of Provence, who says of her : 
“She was the most noble, most illustrious Princess 
of her time ; with her great sense and high courage 
she governed with such prudence and strength that 
she did what not even her greatest ancestors, the 
Kings of the House of Anjou, have done — made her 
dominions safe from all 6 brigands, larrons voleurs et 
mauvais garnements,’ so that even in Provence was 
peace. She reined in her great seigneurs with much 
ability, rebuking their pride and evil passions with 
such gentle skill, that even they, who held kings as 
despicable things, trembled before their Queen’s eyes 
when she turned them upon them in her royal anger. 
She was magnificently dignified, yet gay and debon - 
naire, but she was constancy itself in her opinions, 
and never wavered when her will was once set. Her 
beauty was marvellous, as was her grace ; and while 
she held things pertaining to her royal state and 
honour very high in approval, yet she was always 
accessible to all. In all sorts of learned men’s society 
she took pleasure, and poets, astronomers, orators, 
philosophers, and doctors of all kinds thronged her 
Court, and most particularly kind was she to the 
sweet singers who sang her praises to the world in 
their mother-tongue of the fair land of Provence. 


14 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


“ Though her whole life was passed in a whirl of 
adversity, wars, and domestic troubles, the hatred 
of countless enemies, the curses of the Popes, and 
the spite of her disloyal foes, she never lowered her 
high courage to the assaults of either man or Fate, but 
by the strong rays of her glowing spirit she dispersed 
the clouds of wars, and rode over the waves of the 
most troubled state-disputes as might have done the 
strongest warrior-king instead of a delicate dainty 
woman such as she. — ‘ Bref, elle fut douee de si 
grandes et aimables, et tant reccomandables qualitez, 
vertuz et perfections qu’ on l’estimoit plus tost 
divine qu’humaine cest aimable Princesse.’ ” 

Thus far Nostradamus, but take Amaury’s word 
for it, Jehanne’s royal soul and lovely body mocked 
all efforts at setting down on paltry paper. Of all 
her splendid person, however, from the showers of 
red-gold hair to the restless little feet, the most 
striking feature (at which poor luckless Lubeck had 
so hopelessly boggled) were her wonderful eyes ; for, 
though each was perfect of its kind and framed in 
long ebony lashes, the irises were different, one a 
limpid deep blue-violet, the other quite black. 

This odd beauty spelled irresistible fascination ; 
yet at this time one had but to look* into their laughing 
depths to see that the book of Love was yet sealed to 
Queen Jehanne, and that, lovely as her face was, it 
was the hard loveliness of a marble Venus. Venus, 
I say, but as yet of marble ; for though there were 
the Love-Goddess’s passionate possibilities she had 
now rather the loftier coldness of apart Athene, and 
both pride and contempt showed in the quick quivers 
of the small aquiline nose’s fine nostrils, and in the 
firm set of the chin. Perhaps the scarlet lips laughed 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 15 


too scornfully, and the full white throat lifted that chin 
upwards too often ; yet she had only to turn those 
marvellous eyes with a certain slow, half-sleepy, 
under-lashes smile upon her victim — and were he 
holy as St. Antony, he was her slave forthwith. 

“ She is ice, our Jehanne,” said Boccaccio to him- 
self. “Ice; but there are fires, like Vesuvius below 
her alpine surface.” 

In her sister Marie, the young Duchess of Durazzo, 
one saw a weaker yet warmer copy of Jehanne ; for 
they were much alike in build and colouring, but 
whatever beauty or quality in Jehanne was pro- 
nounced, in Marie was moderated, and, above all, 
she lacked the wonderful eyes, for hers were blue as 
forget-me-nots, and could not flash their command or 
disdain. Marie’s marriage had somehow parted her 
from her sister ; love had subdued her high spirits, 
abated no little her volatile gaiety ; and Jehanne 
viewed with contempt the change. Loving care for 
Marie’s little daughter, that was very well ; but to 
obedient wifely worship a mere Duke, even though he 
was anAnjevine, was that meet for the Princess, and 
heiress of Naples ? The adoration of mere man was 
a mystery to Queen Jehanne, and besides which 
disturbing doubts of Marie’s husband floated in her 
mind. Marie was her heiress, and Charles, though 
their cousin, was but Duke of a shaky Duchy. In 
his nature Jehanne spied both cruelty and want of 
scruples, but at present he and Marie were happy 
turtle-doves. Later events proved Jehanne’s doubts 
right. 

“ Altesse ! ” cried Guy de Montleon, catching up 
Jehanne, as she went, “ Messer Giovanni is telling a 
story, and her Grace thought you would fain hear it.” 


16 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


As a Provengal, Guy addressed her as Altesse, his 
liege Countess — a distinction they prized much, as 
marking a nearer relationship to their Sovereign than 
the Neapolitan “ Majesty.” 

She turned and smiled at him, shaking off her care- 
worn air. 

“ Gladly, for my thoughts are sombre, and ’twill 
banish them,” she replied. Her voice, always sweet, 
was silken soft in the rich vowels of the Langue d’Oc, 
and Guy smiled back, for very pleasure in the sound. 

She tossed him one of two long-stemmed roses she 
held, as they went towards Boccaccio’s terrace to- 
gether, and set the other in the knot of the magnificent 
rope of pearls twisted round her bare throat, and 
knotted on her breast, smiling again. 

“ For your run to fetch me ! ” as deftly he caught 
and pinned it in his cap. 

“ Here we come, ’Ser Nino ! Lend me your bench, 
and sit thus at my feet. — Pierre ! that cushion for him, 
pray ! ” she cried gaily, as Giovanni rose. 

Pierre de Lascaris had been one of her childish 
playmates when, with her grandmother, Queen Sancia, 
she had spent some years in Provence — years which 
had bred her great love for that land and all its things, 
which love stayed with her all her life and was (as 
some think) her ruin. 

“ He is going to tell us a tale of the city,” said 
Marie. 

“Yea, and so hush all you merry brigade, and hear 
the story of a fool ! ” said Boccaccio ; and then his 
beautiful voice told inimitably the droll tale of the 
Enchanted Orange Tree, which caused the old mer- 
chant to see such marvellous visions of his young 
dame and his merry ’prentice, Lorenzo — a story which 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 17 


had for the hearers a double interest as its characters 
were recognised by some of the gallants who dealt 
with the deluded old man for their hose and fineries 
in the Vico Sardinia. 

As a little buzz of laughter sealed the tale, Guy de 
Montleon stretched himself on the grass and held up 
a commanding finger, then sat up, and crossed one 
red-hosed leg over the other. 

“ I am not sure this old man Nicholas was such a 
fool to be taken by such a lure as that ! ” he said 
slowly. 6 4 For I guess what put the idea of saying 
the tree was magical, into Lorenzo’s pate. It is 
possible to see things move thus ! ” 

44 How ? ” asked Duchess Marie. 

44 It needs no magic either ! ” pursued Guy, waving 
a silencing hand on the threatening sceptical jeers. 
44 Behold that open-mouthed, marble lion on the 
terrace end ! Well, as I lay here, meditating after 
matins — stop laughing I-^bpft do meditate ! — I vow 
that as I watched it steadily, its jaws actually 
seemed to snap together ! I got Up, and felt it, but 
they were wide ap^rt. I deemed it magic, so set my 
cap with a medal of the Holy Mary of Arles on the 
beast’s head. 

“ Still it happened, so I take it for a cheating of the 
light or my eyes or somewhat. Perhaps Lorenzo had 
seen a like thing, and acted on’t.” 

The whole company began to watch the said lion, 
then to laugh and exclaim, as each saw differently, 
some nothing, others that it yawned and snapped. 
Jehanne, glancing at the grove whence she had come, 
saw in its shadows a brown frock lurk. Quick disgust 
rose — the Prince’s monk spied upo*\ her then ! By 
Peter 1 He should see something ! 
c 


18 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


She looked round and choose as her tool Amaury 
of Savoy, Lubeck’s fiery victor, whom the Court 
named her most favoured Proven£al ; he had strolled 
up just in time to hear Guy’s last statement, and now 
leaned idly on the balcony. 

The Red Count, men dubbed him, partly from the 
way he ruled in Savoy, partly from the crimson 
clothes he nearly always affected, this habit dating 
from when so armed and housed, in the lists at Capua, 
he had held Jehanne’s glove against all comers dur- 
ing three days of tourney, and sung her a sirvente 
which eclipsed all the professional troveres after- 
wards. 

He was thirty only, but thirty in the Naples of that 
day was an old fifty anywhere else in experience. 
Ever since when nine years ago, he had first seen ten- 
year-old Jehanne at Avignon, the world had held for 
him no other thought. Five years later when His 
father died, he did what seemed sheer madness in that 
day, that is, put his young brother Umberto as Sene- 
schal to hold his County of Savoy, and set off for 
Naples where (save for brief trips home) he had been 
ever since. 

Jehanne liked him, because their minds had much 
in common ; both had so much self-reliance, such 
hatred of interference, such independence, and swift 
action ; and Amaury was very skilful at showing her 
sympathy in the manful silent way, which her fretting 
spirit appreciated. She guessed at a deeper feeling, 
but pushed the thought away, unwilling to disturb 
her own peace, and favoured him steadily as her 
knight. Her knight, of mere tourneys, and song 
singing, be it understood — a rank which meant 
nothing more to outward view, as she had a score of 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 19 


others all alike proclaiming her Queen of Earth in 
every joust a-field. 

Despite her favours, however, Amaury had few 
foes among the Proven 9 aux ; he was too cheerful with 
men in peace, and too good a comrade in war, to make 
serious rivals, and in the lesser Court intrigues he 
never dabbled. 

It needed a keener eye than any of those gay 
triflers possessed to spy out the real Amaury — the 
condottiere under the courtier — for he was as deep in 
cunning as the sea at the foot of his native Alpes 
Maritimes, and he could bide his time as their aval- 
anches hang patient till the first boulder is shaken 
loose. 

The Hungarians hated him, however, for he was 
very friendly with Bertrand des Baux, the Grand 
Justicer, and his relations (of whom more afterwards). 

“ That lion is but a dead subject for trial ! ” cried 
the Queen. 

“ Let us have a real test like the story. I see 
Erminetta there, look startled — perhaps she is too 
shy to try with some one I could name ! So my grave 
sober self shall do’t ! Count Amaury — hither ! 
Sit by me on the bench — Now look every one — like 
Nicholas ! ” 

Amaury’s expressive grey-brown eyes showed for an 
instant a tell-tale light, which he hid by quickly 
changing seats, but his breath came shorter as her 
scented veil blew against his cheek. 

Jehanne turned to him, and in her look he read 
that she would play out the jest — he had not dared 
to hope she really would. 

The others watched as though they glamoured them. 

Gradually their heads drew together — for a desper- 
c 2 


20 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


ate flash Amaury battled with the desire to draw 
her sharply to him, and lay not one, but many kisses 
on both lips, and the matchless throat which showed 
tempting as Eve’s apple above the low, broidered 
collar of her gown. Then by a supreme effort he mas- 
tered it, and as cool as she, touched lightly the cheek 
which felt like a rose leaf’s inner side. 

Amid the clapping and cries that followed a long 
shadow fell on the terrace — that of a man, very tall, 
very stiff, very slow at raising the fur-bound kalpag 
from his head. 

“ The Prince wills her Majesty to attend him within 
the Castel,” he said in Italian, with a strong foreign 
accent. 

Queen Jehanne deliberately folded her arms. 

“ Go, tell the Duke of Calabria that the Queen of 
Naples is not to be fetched within, by him for no given 
reason. If he wishes speech with Us let him come 
hither. We are not at his call,” she said solemnly as 
in the Council Chamber. Boccaccio thought her 
sterner than the affair warranted, but sympathised 
silently. 

The Hungarian went, but once from hearing, mut- 
tered wrathfully. 

He was a proud boiar, brother to Ladislaus Apor, 
the great Voivode of Transylvania, and held neither 
of his sovereigns in high respect ; still it galled him to 
see Hungary’s power flouted by a mere Neapolitan 
girl. 

“ By King Arpad’s soul ! ” he swore under breath. 
“ If we were but let loose a day, we would sweep them 
into their sea, as he swept the Brenta’s banks on the 
day when he sent King Berengar to the Pit ! ” 

Presently Prince Andrea came out, all in an angry 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 21 


twitter, his flabby white face whiter than usual 
between the two wings of dull brown hair which 
framed it. He marched up to his wife now alone on 
her bench, and curling the end of one of her long plaits 
daintily round her finger. 

“ A word with you, Maddonna,” he said in a high, 
shaking voice. 

44 Ten if you will,” said she, calm as a lake during 
noon-hush. 

Andrea spluttered a Hungarian oath. 

She was half minded to stay and face out whatever 
grievance he had so patiently in mind, but with the 
tail of her eye saw Amaury’s hand gripping his dagger 
hilt till the veins rose. Caution fought with reckless 
contempt, and won. 

She made her husband a quietly commanding 
sign. 

“ Let us speak apart,” she said, and they went off 
together, he with short, nervous pace, she gliding as a 
sleigh over ice. 

Amaury raised his brows to the circle, shrugged his 
shoulders, and drawing Guy de Montleon’s arm 
through his, wandered away among the orange 
trees. 

The Queen and Prince walked meanwhile in the 
shady grove. 

“ How well that lemon tree grows ; I had it put 
there myself, years ago,” she said tranquilly, as if it 
were her uppermost idea. 44 1 wonder if the lemons 
will be good ? ” 

Then Andrea’s wrath exploded. 

“ Lemons ! Thunderbolts ! What a-devil do you 
mean by degrading you as anon ? I insist on answer, 
— I ” 


22 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Jehanne looked at him as at an angry child, her 
serenity unstirred. 

“ A pity you are so excitable ! ” she said. “ You 
forget that a Queen may amuse herself unquestioned 
— sometimes. Also if she be spied upon, it may not 
be a pleasant sight for the spiers.” 

“ Great Ladislaus ! You let your minion kiss your 
cheek — is that amusement ? O dignity of queens ! 
How dared you ? M 

“ Well, Prince ” — a shade more acidly — “ if you 
please to kiss all my prettiest damsels in game thus, 
I shall say no word, be sure. You had best not 
complain.” 

Though there was absolutely no deeper meaning 
concealed in her last words, Andrea started slightly. 
She did not mark it then, but afterwards it came to 
her mind. But he was of those who ride their 
galled steeds till they throw them, and went on 
now : 

“ If you think I shall allow such things to 
be ” 

“ I do not see how you can prevent them,” said 
Jehanne, with the smile of security. 

“ When I am King of Naples in name as well as 

fact ” he spurted, but she checked him with a 

waved hand. 

“ Too far off to plan for, as yet ! Now, Prince, I 
am very weary of the subject ; I tell you finally I wish 
no more of it. You had best accept things as they 
are. I am Queen of Naples by heritage, and you are 
my Consort. If I refuse you what title you are not 
capable of holding, it is for my nation’s good, and 
thus not my personal fault. Take my rede, moreover, 
and remain contented, Duke of Calabria. So are you 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 23 


free and careless. . . . Believe me, the crown is but 
weary wear sometimes, but as ’tis my duty, so must 
I bear the weight.” 

This increased Andrea’s rage ; his mouth worked, 
he stopped short and faced her on trembling 
feet. 

Suddenly there swept up to them, perhaps, the 
only person who could have stilled the breaking storm, 
the saintly Bishop of Cavaillon, Philippe de Cabassolle, 
Jehanne’s favourite prelate, indeed, the only one 
she tolerated as a friend. His views were very broad, 
and his tact and wit were those of an experienced man 
of the world, though his saintly life was in sharp 
contrast to some of the other Princes of Holy Church 
in Naples. He was only in his fortieth year, and his 
stately stride and upright figure gave his sweeping 
robes more the air of a king’s mantle than a bishop’s 
vestments, and the light of his kind brown eyes under 
his straight-cut fringe of dark hair was very pleasant. 
He read the storm signals of Andrea’s flushed face 
and Jehanne’s curled lip, and promptly tried to avert 
them. 

“ Holy Mary’s blessing, daughter ! Here is a 
packet from Pisa, which will please you, or I am wrong. 
It is from our sweet singer Arnaud de Coutignac, and 
contains a new sirvente to your praise, and a rough 
sketch for your canopy’s decorations with ferns and 
roses, at your coming Court d’Amour at Capua. 
He sends it in advance of his own arrival, and begs me 
to read you the sirvente (after three pages loyal 
laudations of his Queen) myself.” 

“ Why so ? ” asked she, her wrath fled before eager 
pleasure. 

“ He says his poor script is unworthy your divine 


24 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


eyes, but the sirvente's sound alone may pass muster. 
The sketch is by one Paolo — t’other name ill-writ — 
a pupil of Messer Giotto’s. Shall I read the 
sirvente ? ” 

There is nothing like a third party’s smooth 
eloquence to quench an angry man’s splutters, and the 
good Bishop’s chatter gave an anticlimax to Andrea’s 
wrath. 

“ Curse your singing-jays ! ” he growled, and strode 
off. 

“ Arnaud is a fantast of the first order,” said 
Jehanne. “ Never heed his ceremonies, dear Father ; 
give me the parchment.” 

It was a fair tribute of the renowned trovere’s pen 
to his Queen, one of many, for Arnaud of the Lerins 
of Provence sang to no other lady, and all his songs 
exalt her to the sun ; all his life he clave to her in rain 
and shine. This one, however, was of much import- 
ance, as it gave her first that name by which she lives 
in many a Proven£al ballad and story, as “ Jehanne 
aux L6vres d’Or, ” or “ Labre d’Oro ” in Provencal, 
Langue d’Oc. The first verse I venture to English 
thus : 

“ Jehanne of the Golden Lips, fair fountains whose glittering 
rush of words throws high into the happy air pearls and diamonds 
of most glorious kind ; for the spring which gave them birth is the 
Thought of She whose heart is clear and hard as the diamond and 
whose soul is whiter than the pearl. 

“ Could I but catch one of those gems and claim it mine, because 
it was a kind thought for me, then would I think myself more 
blessed than a soul freed from Purgatory. 

“ A genie once asked me what I held the most glorious, blest deed 
in the world, and I answered : “ To take one of the word-jewels of 
the Golden Lips and replace it in its source by a long and marvel- 
lous kiss ; but this task is too high for man, and will never be done 
unless Apollo quits Olympus, for only he is worthy of this deed.’ 

“ Arnaud’s fancy improves with travel,” said she, 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 25 


well pleased. “ I shall let him sing this at the Court 
d’Amour.” 

“ My child,” said Cavaillon slowly, “ is not your 
husband wroth about this Court ? I heard him say 
as much to one of his barons yesterday.” 

“ Most like ! ” said Jehanne carelessly. “ He is 
wroth about everything I have a hand in. Ha! 
what is that below on the lawn ? A scuffle, I declare ! 
Will they never cease brawling ! ” Yet she welcomed 
the interruption, for she was always shy of speaking 
of Andrea to the Bishop, and in her present reckless 
mood particularly so ; his peaceful words reproached 
her, made her angry with herself, when she was only 
angry with Andrea. 

On the lawn below the terrace was a pretty deep 
fountain-basin, where swam goldfishes, and whence 
now stuck up and wagged furiously two strange 
objects — objects which that very gentle youth Foul- 
quet le Courtois was holding, and, despite their 
struggles, pushing deeper into the water. 

Around him half-a-dozen men and girls stood laugh- 
ing and advising : 

“ Deeper Foulquet — dip the rat in harder ! ” 
Jehanne heard Pierre de Lascaris call. She now saw 
the two objects were feet — spurred feet — and she 
called promptly : 

“ Hither Foulquet ! ” Foulquet instantly dropped 
the kicking, splashing ankles and crossed the grass, 
not a hair of his straight-cut, fair fringe awry, not a 
particle ruffled of temper, drying daintily his hands 
on a lawn handkerchief as he came. 

“ What did you yonder, Count ? ” said Jehanne. 

“ Queen of Queens, a most unworthy act in your 
service — a nothing — not worth the telling.” 


26 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


“ I saw something — speak ! ” 

“ Most Perfect, it was but a toad of a Hungarian, 
who muttered to himself a word to which I held he had 
no right, so as I thought a toad’s home was water — 
I took him by the waist and hove him into the pond. 
And as he was so thick of heresies I held him there 
awhile, to be well soaked.” 

Foulquet’s quaint conceits always amused her, and 
she laughed now. 

The hapless baron had splashed out of the pond, 
and now came dripping towards them, but Foulquet 
faced about. 

“ Hence ! frog ! ” he cried, “ or I proclaim why I 
put you there ! ” 

The Hungarian, who was one of the mighty house 
of Czak of Trencsen, shook his fist at him. 

“ Wait till I am dry ! ” he growled. 

“ I will put you both where you will be drier still ! ” 
cried Jehanne sharply. “ There is quite enough 
fighting to be done now-a-days, my lords, without 
making any more ! Get within, and dry you, boiar, 
and there it must end ! Count Foulquet, you walk 
with me here awhile ! ” 

Her word being law, thus it happened, but as they 
went, she asked Foulquet : 

“ What said he that you took amiss ? I am curious 
— to-day is dull.” 

“I do not wish to say — but since my Countess 
insists — he said that the Prince was showing his 
authority at last. I thought a ducking would hurt 
his pride worse than my sword his body — so ” 

And any one seeing the smile she flashed upon him 
then would have asked no further why her Provengaux 
laid down their lives for her so blithely ! 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 27 


“ But he will kill you now,” she said. 

“ No, he will not, Altesse,” said Foulquet confi- 
dently. “ But when I have your leave to prevent 
him so doing — why, then he will soon dwell where he 
will think the coolness of that fountain a most desirable 
thing indeed 1 ” 


CHAPTER II 


Beside the square paved, white-dusted Roman 
road ten miles north-west of Taranto, stood the inn 
Le Due Falconi ; a lonely little white house in a maze 
of vineyards, a contadino’s hut, and a few desolate 
columns of a ruined Greek temple to Ceres, opposite 
its door, for all neighbours. 

Blue mountains fenced the sky-rim to northwards ; 
southwards through the plain, the road twisted 
through more vine trellises, to where distantly rose 
the towers of royal Taranto, beyond there showed a 
glitter of blue sea. 

On the inn’s north side, screened from the sun-glare 
by a dusty vine, a man sat drinking the rather sour 
wine of the plains ; a man wearing the fantastic dress 
of a wandering jongleur, whom any one adept in such 
matters would have guessed of France rather than 
Italy. 

A jongleur — yet at the first glance men looked again 
— at the second felt an unreasoning impulse to be cap 
in hand, and if — (rarely this) — he troubled to return a 
searching look, they were so. 

Yet there was no suggestion of bully or swaggerer 
about him, no hint of armed authority in his quiet 
manner — only that indescribable something which 
bids obedience of all — and gets it. Louis, Prince of 
Taranto, second son of that imperial Lady, Empress 
28 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 29 


Catherine, had amongst other nicknames, that of 
“ His Serenity,” and with reason. No man in peace 
or war had ever seen him anything but the calm, 
unruffled personage who now sat under the vine, but 
he was also called “ Louis the Lance,” — Luigi Lancia 
— quick, supple, and deadly of point. 

The latter name fitted his person, for he was tall — 
very tall — and slender like the lance’s shaft, but 
beneath the smooth skin of his arms the powerful 
muscles rippled like steel bands under satin, and his 
grip was a thing to remember. His hair and mous- 
tache were of that rare shade between red and golden, 
his face very white, the sun seeming powerless to tan 
it even though he was always in its light, his eyes 
of the blue-green tint often seen with such colouring. 

“ A Court man — a woman’s man,” one might say at 
first sight, but one was never more mistaken. Louis 
of Taranto might play courtier to out-act the best liar 
that ever bowed to a throne, but such things did not 
touch the man himself — he had a sceptic and philoso- 
pher’s disdain for such follies, and held his own exalted 
rank a necessary evil only. 

In all his affairs he walked alone, for he like Count 
Amaury held all men liars, and reasonably, considering 
those among whom he moved ; having also the self- 
sufficient, self-reliant certitude of the feline tribe, 
along with their gift of silent movements and lightning 
quickness in action. 

And as for his being a woman’s man, he was (still 
like the lance) no weapon for their hands. Fate, 
with her sarcastic way of giving us just what we do not 
desire, gave to him to please women without effort, 
and in his early youth the unwelcome favours of half 
his mother’s fair suite made him hail with relief her 


30 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


proposal that he should go to her lands in Achaia, 
where trouble brewed against both Epiros and the 
Turks. With her and his brother Robert, and her 
factotum (and their tutor), Messer Niccolo Accai- 
juolo, the famous Florentine banker, he went, and 
for awhile they dwelt in gorgeous half-barbaric Greek 
splendour, but soon Robert hankered for the easy 
luxury of gay Castel Nuovo, and the Empress grew 
uneasy about Duchess Agnes’ influence with Jehanne 
in their absence. Presently they fluttered Naples- 
wards, and there stayed (brief needful visits to Taranto 
excepted), leaving Louis and Niccolo to quell the 
riotous land. 

Niccolo, though only thirty-five, had the world- 
craft of sixty, and ever since the day when he had as 
a mere boy come to Taranto to win the trust of Cather- 
ine’s husband, he had made steady progress, so that 
he was now (since his master’s death) her chief coun- 
sellor and adviser, in financial affairs. Louis was his 
favourite of the lads, and he too turned gladly from 
his brother’s follies and fripperies to the grave, bold 
Florentine’s company, and together they held the 
Morea like paladins of old, baffled Epiros, drove out 
the Turks, cruised among the Isles of Greece, went to 
Constantinople disguised as knights errant, to follow 
a state intrigue there, and in the years they spent 
thus, Louis bore a man’s part in countless adventures. 

Niccolo taught him as he would have done his own 
son, thus giving him all the Florentine craft, to add to 
his Anjevine daring, and the subtilty learned by 
dealing with the Greeks. 

Yet even though Niccolo had himself reared, and 
sharpened the claws of this young leopard, at times he 
almost feared him, for his iron calm in danger, his 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 31 


strange, silent, almost uncanny powers of endurance, 
and his curious indifference to the ordinary youthful 
delights of wine and women. 

For the latter he had no eyes, and would give the 
fairest as casual a glance as to any plain old peasant. 
No derisive bantering of Niccolo or his brother could 
shake his indifference to the fairest of Taranto’s 
Court, when after his Eastern adventures he returned 
there. To his content a threatened tragedy cut short 
such gentle annoyances. 

Lovely Ottolina di Sanseverino threw herself into 
the blue Bay of Taranto leaving a passionate letter 
on her table, declaring her unreturned love for Prince 
Louis was the cause of it. Alack ! She was spied 
and rescued despite herself by a young knight, 
shrieking her idol’s name. He, by some odd whim of 
destiny’s, chanced to be walking on the shore, and 
arrived just in time to assist the dripping pair to land, 
and when she threw herself fainting at his feet, he 
merely said with gentlest courtesy to her rescuer, that 
had he been able by the gift of even half his princedom 
to have prevented her rash act, he would have done 
so, but his affection was the one gift he could not give 
to any woman. 

Fortunately for Ottolina’s pride, the young knight 
was gallant enough to save the situation by falling in 
love with her himself, and soon after offering her his 
hand, but when the story leaked out the Prince had 
peace, and went his serene way, mixing little with the 
Court, and devoting himself to the state’s interests. 
It was easier for him to keep apart, because so many 
Tarentine nobles were gone with the Empress to shine 
in Naples’ gayer, wider sphere. Thither he refused 
to go, despite all his mother and brothers’ invitations ; 


32 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


he had been there once as a child, when Jehanne was 
in Provence, and he knew that the whirlpool of frivol- 
ity which would seize him there meant sheer waste of 
time. 

He had a certain scorn for his mother’s pandering 
to the crown, and a sound contempt for Robert and 
Philippe’s luxurious ways, and once he replied angrily 
to their importunities : 

“ Leave me alone ! I know my own desires best. 
I will not sap my strength by such late hours and 
feast as would wear out a Turkish wrestler ! What 
would become of your revenues which pay you, 
those pretty silks and gems, if I fluttered there too ? 
Be content, lest I strike for my pay like the Catalan 
Grand Company’s men ! ” His lips turned their 
corners in a whimsical smile, and the two princes took 
the hint, for truly their minds had no care for Taranto 
so long as he slept in its palace. 

So he stayed, ruling the sea-girt city, and during 
his leisure studying his favourite art in a high tower 
overlooking the classic waters where once Ulysses 
passed, equally unheedful of the worldly sirens. 

As a boy Louis had had that good gift a perfect, 
high, soaring voice, which broke just before he left 
for the East, to Messer Niccolo’s despair, for as he 
vowed, it was the nearest thing to the music of the 
seraphini which had ever broken silence, in the Princi- 
pality. But to the Florentine’s joy when it formed 
again, it was as perfect as ever, a wonderful golden 
tenor, of that rare, sweet timbre which not one in a 
thousand voices has to perfection, a voice whose 
power and fascination can only be compared to the 
spell-casting chaunts of Orpheus. If he sang in camp, 
the crowd of turbulent listeners were silent till the last 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 33 


note died — if he sang in any Duomo, the people about 
him simply hushed their own voices to hear him, so 
he would laugh and be mute perforce. 

Yet at first he was Niccolo’s despair, for he held his 
gift lightly, as a mere accessory to the noble craft of 
poetry, for had Fate not made him Prince he had surely 
been trovere. 

However, Niccolo’s lectures awakened him. 

“ Domeniddio ! ” he cried one day, when Louis had 
sung a Noel, till there was not a dry-eyed person of 
the impressionable crowd, within hearing. “ Cannot 
you hear how divine you are ? O, Luigi ! Stupid 
Luigi ! Why will you not take care of your voice ? 
You would be Prince of all Trovere if you would but 
sing your own verse ! You have a golden flute in 
your throat — and you sleep in the marsh mists — O ! 
There ! You are a fool, Luigi ! ” 

“ Flatterer ! ” laughed Louis. “Yet maybe — 
Bene ! I will find time and study ! Only one thing,” 
he added sharply, “ I will not sing to the gaping 
fools at Court. Fortunately we are yet in Salonika 
here, and none but the Greeks and our men here know 
my voice has come back. I must cease singing about, 
as I have done.” 

Thus very few in Taranto knew the identity of the 
marvellous trovere who sang on the tower-top at 
early hours, and these few respecting his wish were 
discreetly deaf and dumb about it. 

Gradually he grew to love his art, and even Niccolo 
was appeased at the pains he took. ^ 

Yet this outwardly cold and unfathomable Prince 
had a sunny side for one other person besides Niccolo, 
and that was his young sister, the wilful lovely Prin- 
cess Marguerite. She like him had a strong will and 

D 


34 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


hatred of ceremonies, but in other respects she was 
his entire opposite, for she was as gay as a lark, and 
her chatter ran like a brook all day long. Though 
she was nineteen, and the prettiest thing of Taranto, 
Empress Catherine left her there ; some said the 
imperial mother feared she might favour some 
ineligible suitor at the Neapolitan Court, others that 
so tall a daughter marked her own age too closely. 

So Marguerite passed her time at home, in trying to 
meddle in Louis’s state business, much as a kitten 
tugs at the links in a mail-coat, and in dodging the too 
conscientious attentions of a very strict old bull-dog 
of a duenna. 

A while of peace had set Louis’s desires actionwards 
again, and now he was embarked on a fantastic quest ; 
thus he came to be seated in a jongleur’s array under 
the vines upon the Naples road. 

No one, he believed, save his able Aragonese friend, 
Don Diego della Ratta (whom he had left in charge at 
Taranto) knew his plans. Messer Niccolo was safely 
in Naples arranging some banking for the Empress, 
who with her sons was equally safe in their Palazzo 
there. Even Marguerite knew not of his venture, 
thought Prince Louis, as he smiled at the distant 
towers of his city in content. 

Suddenly a mule’s feet pattered on the road, a girl’s 
voice spoke to the host, and a few moments later its 
owner came out into the vine’s shelter. She was a 
gaily-clad, high-voiced, quick-footed piece of goods, 
with a vielle slung over her shoulder by a red ribbon, 
and a freakish red hood perched on her loose, hanging 
black curls — evidently one of those wandering jong- 
leuresses, a song-singer, and masque-dancer, who made 
gay the halls of every castle in France and Italy. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 35 


Louis glanced for the male minstrel, who he 
thought must accompany her, saw no one, looked 
away, and dismissed her from his mind — which 
had more on it than little wandering singing 
maids. 

Not so she. She banged upon the table, demanded 
a drink of the host, in broken Italian with a French 
accent, and then fell to coughing and scraping her 
foot about. 

Louis, indifference itself, tilted his chair, yawned, 
rose, stretched himself to his great height’s uttermost 
and would have re-entered the inn, but suddenly she 
spoke. 

“ Greeting, brother o’ the road ! ” she said easily, 
in French with the strong southern accent of the 
Langue-d’Oc’s land. “ Is what they have brought 
you any better stuff than this mule-drench here?” 

He pushed his unemptied jug towards her “ Try 
it — I have done.” 

* u Domna nostra ! ’Tis much worse than mine ! ” 
she cried, with a little grimace. “ Ah ! what would 
I not give for a taste of good Gascon — if I had another 
denier on me ! ” Then, as he said nothing immedi- 
ately, “ Santa Cecilia ! I had not taken a Frenchman 
to be so slow at a hint ! By that gallant blue tunic 
and nearly new mantle, times seemed better with you 
than that ! ” 

Her very impudence began to amuse him. He 
called the host and asked for his best, and sat there 
while she drank it. Then, as she nursed her vielle, 
he said : 

“ Well, damoiselle, good wine should tune your 
voice. Let me have a song as payment. ’Tis all I 
ask — no refusal ! ” 


36 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


But the girl bridled at this inoffensive demand, 
sniffed, and shrugged her slight shoulder scorn- 
fully. 

“ What is amiss, sweet mavis ? 99 asked Louis of 
her petulance. 

“You are a strangely handsome lad to be so green ! ” 
she said ; but, turning her head aside, “Do they make 
many like you in your land ? Mestrikes you are 
new to the road ! ” 

“ Why so, most mystic-humoured one ? ” 

“ Am I so ugly that for half-an-hour your eyes 
seem in your pouch, sir jongleur ? Never in all 
Nita de Cahor’s travels has she met your like ! ” 

She languished such a look at him that he could have 
laughed in her face at her effrontery — he smiled even 
so. 

“ Mestrikes also that Ma Damoiselle Nita de 
Cahors is the vainest lady I have met in all my 
travels,” he said pleasantly. “ I admit I wholly 
lack learning in winding roads and too-kind ladies.” 

His manner was bantering and indifferent enough 
to have silenced a bolder than she, but she snapped 
her brown fingers in the air. 

“ Ah bah ! for your fine ladies ! If you know no 
better, ’tis time some one taught you ! Payment in 
a song, by Venus ! You may have your first lesson 
now ! ” 

Ere he could rise she sat upon his knee, her arms 
round his neck ! 

Too astonished for an instant to push her off, he 
sat quiet ; then as her head found his shoulder, a 
sweet familiar scent rose from her curls. No two 
people in Taranto had that perfume ; its make was a 
secret. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 37 


Suspicion blazed — he turned her face upwards — 
only to receive a kiss on the lips ! 

“ Ha, Marie ! Marguerite, thou naughty little 
baggage ! ” 

She sprang from him, and skipped and laughed till 
the very goblets danced. 

44 Eh, Louis ! Louis ! What a fool a wise man can 
be! ’Tis the best jest of my life! Oh, I would give 
a thousand lys d’or to have our Philippe here, too ! 
What betrayed me ? My speech ? What ? ” She 
spoke purest French, her broken accent and loud 
tone both gone. 

Louis checked his laughter to catch her, stare, and 
make sure. But he was right : the tawdry dress, 
black wig, and browned skin hid his venturesome sister. 

44 Use not that odour of lilies and musk rose when 
next you run a-masking. Comfort you — you are 
perfectly disguised else. But how a-Mary’s name 
could you follow me ? And why trouble to fool me, 
who, as you see, am not worth the fooling ? ” 

44 Firstly, dear Louis,” said she, perching on the 
table and checking off her reasons on her slender 
fingers — “ firstly, you were very foolish to talk secrets 
in my garden’s rose arbour, where anything might 
be about. I was. Three weeks ago you were there 
with Don Diego, and said to him : 4 Get me the jong- 
leur’s gear from your tailor — then I will start for 
Naples. The morning I depart, you will say that I 
rode out alone to surprise Godmother Duchessa 
Madallena di Otranto by a visit — for some days. 
Put this letter in your pouch — ’tis to say I shall stay 
on there, hunting for another fortnight — and you 
will 44 receive ” it in ten days’ time.’ So is your 
month’s absence explained in Taranto, my Louis ! ” 


38 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


“ Ha, little spy ! You did not overhear all ? ” 

Marguerite laughed, and went on teasingly : 

“ Did I not ? Listen. You said : 6 An odd ven- 
ture this, Diego, but the only way to see my royal 
cousin in her true colours. As a princely cousin 
I should see but her guarded stately side — I would 
see her as a woman — the siren woman of report. 
A doubly strange whim for me, who never cast eyes 
twice on any fair one ; but of late my curiosity is 
eager to see her — our famous Queen, who takes and 
breaks men’s souls like spinning thread by her indiffer- 
ent cold-splendour. My mother has lauded her to me 
a hundred times, and shown me portraits — but what 
then ? I would see for myself our Anjevine Circe. 
And I will have a rare jest if I am discovered in 
approaching her.’ 

“ But Don Diego laughed and replied : ‘ Beware, 
lest you get a frost-bite there, my Louis ! Ice burns 
if held too long, though I do think you are yourself 
the most inhumanly frozen man who walks this 
sun-kissed earth.’ 

“ But you, too, laughed. * Nay, fear not for me, 
Diego. My High Song Goddess will never have mortal 
rival. My ideal woman lives not, but I am curious 
to see my queenly cousin’s sorceries close.’ 

“ Then I crept away lest you heard me. 

“ Secondly : Home is too stupid to endure, with our 
mother and brothers in Naples ; I have no pleasure 
whatever save your company ” 

“ Fie — honey-pot ! ” said he ; but she went on : 

“ Only tristesse, stiff clothes, and stiffer ceremonies ! 
I am the Princess regnant — I am the Princess bored ! 
So I will have holiday, too ! Dio mio ! How delight- 
ful ’twas as I rode along ! No stupid obeisances, 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 39 


shouts, or guards — no thrice abominable Donna 
Agneta for ever at my elbow ! Tra la la ! The air 
is full of joy out here !” 

“ But, Rita mine, how knew you when I departed ? 
These clothes of yours ? How left you the Palazzo 
unseen ? ” 

“ Most easily. Fanchette the lace-tender’s daugh- 
ter comes every day with my fal-lals — a knowing 
wench. For five lys d’or she got me wig and dress 
and taught me to act the singing-lass. She also knew 
Don Diego’s tailor, and when the suit was ready 
watched your rooms as a cat the mouse-hole. Thus, 
this morn, all my notes ready written, I got up and 
rode away. I could not resist singing to a dozen 
archers in the Piazza — who gave me several scudi — 
nor to leave Donna Agneta a billet thus : 4 For some 
days your eyes will have rest from spying after me ; it 
will preserve them from squinting ! ! ’ I sent Paolo my 
page home to his mother, so she will think him at 
Godmother’s with me and you. I am safe, be sure ! ” 

“ Excellently planned,” said Louis, when her chat- 
ter ceased. “ But now you had best turn back, your 
jest played ” 

Blank amazement sat on Marguerite’s brow. 

“ Art stricken stupid, Louis ? Maddonnina mia ! 
I am coming with you ! My pack is on the mule. 
I have gold ” 

“ Certes, no ! ” said he curtly. “ An impossible 
journey for you ! ” 

Her quick temper blazed. 

“ I will write straight to Philippe and the Queen 
and spoil your plan. And I will run off alone at the 
first chance, and then Mother Mary alone knows what 
might hap to me ! With you I am safe. Ah, dearest 


40 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Louis ! why so harsh with your Marguerite ? And — 
you cannot refuse me, because unless you carry me 
back to Taranto I will not go — that also would ruin 
your scheme ! ” 

Louis halted. He knew she would do so, for she 
also had the Valois obstinacy of their mother ; besides 
which his wilful sister’s small hand was the only one 
which could bend the stiff Lance from his will. 

He stroked his long golden moustache slowly, 
and smiled at her eager face laid caressingly on his 
shoulder. 

“ A very hot, dusty journey — strange, dirty inns 
o’ nights ! You are Court-reared, remember.** 

“Oh, if that be all” — with a little grimace — “I 
fear neither mice nor fleas ! Neither like me. I come ! 
Let us be off ! ” 

“ First promise me not to wink your naughty eyes 
at any other jongleurs — who might be more exper- 
ienced in such troveresque courtesies than I ! My 
sword is not Taranto’s guards ” 

“ Eh, my own Louis ! Yes ! I promise aught ! 
Come, let us start ! ” And with an impetuous 
embrace she dashed for the inn door. 


CHAPTER III 


et Les Dieux ont les pieds de laine 
Mais ils ont les mains de Fer.” 

Nostradamus. 

It was King Charles I. of Anjou, that stern ancestor 
of King Robert the Wise, who built the fortress of 
Castel Nuovo, on the shores of Naples Bay, to replace 
as his residence the smaller Castel del Ovo, which still, 
juts into the sea on its rocky spur. 

His primary idea for Castel Nuovo was that of 
impregnable strength, and it ranked among the best 
Anjevine forts. Standing a little back from the shore 
on a hillock, it had a wide, clear space between the 
waves and its two southernmost towers. Five towers 
it still has, heavy, dark, and round-crested, forming 
its outer bounds ; two looking south-eastwards, the 
others north-west. East and west of the Castel 
King Charles left space for great herb gardens to serve 
his garrison, within the bounds of his sea-filled moat. 
Landwards, facing the chief gate, la Porta Reale, was 
another open square or larga in Neapolitan speech. 

But serious, martial King Charles would have 
turned in his tomb had he seen the frivolous, flower- 
filled spaces those gardens became in his grandson’s 
reign. Hear Boccaccio on their glories : 

“ Filled were they with exquisite green things — 
fair grass and flowers exhaled sweetest scents, and 
41 


42 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


round the parterres superb thick-foliaged trees were 
joy to see.” 

In their shade were many fantastically shaped 
casini, some filled with rare birds, others for siestas 
at high noon ; and all over the gardens roamed a 
a herd of graceful gazelles with gold collars, gifts from 
the Sultan of Tunis to King Robert. 

In the eastern garden were deep thickets, where 
rolled in long grass a pair of slim panthers, who seemed 
free as in the jungle till one spied their bright steel 
collars and chains among the undergrowth. 

Farther off, chained also, were some young lions, 
and eastwards in artificial caves skipped dainty little 
fawns, and in a sand bank rare white hares, far from 
their northern home. Marble statues and curious 
birds abounded, as did strange fish in shady fountain- 
basins, and golden pheasants and peacocks strutted 
by the hedges, often trimmed to form surprise vistas 
of the Bay, Capri and Vesuvius. 

One very lovely fountain was formed by a weary 
Diana, who leaned over a golden plated faun’s head, 
holding a cup to the lips, from which dashed a crystal 
stream. 

There were gilded, velvet-decked swings in the 
trees, smooth lawns for the new game of tennis-ball, 
and long alleys where the gay company might shoot 
at silken targets. In short, these pleasaunces were 
entirely meet for the most splendid Court of Italy ; 
and the brilliance of Naples then was only rivalled 
by that of the French Court at its gayest periods. 
In Castel Nuovo’s great halls and gilded alcoves went 
on intrigues of love, death, and ambition, besides which 
those of later, more scrupulous ages seem pale and 
tame. Under the gold-broidered draperies lurked 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 43 


the steel poignard ; in the fair woman’s kiss was 
ambition’s poison. 

But in King Robert’s reign factional feuds among 
the nobles diminished ; the King had the priceless 
gift of tact, and besides he mixed with the rougher 
warrior element, a gracious leaven of art and literature, 
such as no other monarch of his time could draw to his 
court. 

Such names as Petrarch, Giotto, Boccaccio, Barilli, 
the Colonna tell their own tale of brilliance ; and minor 
artists, trovere, and singers of all sorts swarmed 
among the dukes, duchesses, and ambassadors. 

At the long marble tables in the great library 
overlooking the Bay, King Robert had stilled many a 
quarrel by his adroit interposition of learned dis- 
cussions on art and poetry, diverted many a wreck 
of peace on the rocks of anger by his soothing flatteries 
and tact. 

In the Chapel of St. Barbara, and in the secret 
Chapel of St. Martino, beneath it, he set Giotto to 
fresco the walls ; and though now, unfortunately, 
there remains no trace of his work, one may picture 
them in their glory of saints and people them with the 
brilliant congregations who heard the Bishop of 
Cavaillon’s famous sermons, and the renowned singing 
boys, whose voices made Vespers a joy and High Mass a 
triumph. 

South of the Castel ran to the western Torre del 
Oro, or treasury, a high grassy bank, terraced by a 
marble balcony guarded by stately white statues, 
who watched the gorgeous gowns of the ladies trail 
like peacocks in the sun. 

Across the moat hung two drawbridges, and on the 
Castel’s east was a second gate, more rarely used than 


44 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Porta Reale, facing another stretch of gardens, beyoneL 
which lay Larga Correggie, where tourneys were 
held, and which was bounded by several nobles’ 
palaces. 

It was the fashionable square of Naples, though in a 
sense less important than Larga Carbonara, farther 
north, in the city’s heart, where took place those 
real gladiatorial games which, by their unabashed 
old-Roman brutality, so horrified Petrarch; and where, 
owing to its nearness to the Mercato there were often 
riotous gatherings of all sorts. 

On the sea-front south of Larga Correggie, beyond 
the western end of Castel Nuovo’s gardens, with its 
back to the Convent of St. Pietro del Castello, was the 
Palazzo Durazzo, whither Princess Marie had fled 
with her cousin, Charles, helped over the garden wall 
by her maid, Margarita di Ceccano. It was a very 
splendid building, though for outward and inward 
magnificence nothing rivalled Palazzo di Taranto, 
which lay north of Castel Nuovo, opposite Porta 
Reale, across a wide open larga. 

Such were Castel Nuovo’s surroundings, worthy of 
its royal crown of towers whereof the most easterly 

wascalledBibirella(Neapolitancorruption of Vivarium, 

from the falcon-caves below it) ; the next, south-east, 
Thalassi, wherein usually lived the heir to the throne. 
North-west to landwards were Torre del Oro (thus the 
corner tower), and between the remaining pair named 
respectively St. Michael and St. George, flanking 
Porta Reale, now called the Arch of Alfonso of Aragon. 
Yet a sixth Torre St. Vicenzo stood on the little isle 
dei Magari, linked to land by a breakwater, opposite 
what is to-day the arsenal, and formed a lighthouse 
and port defence. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 45 


Queen Jehanne used the King’s rooms on the first 
floor of the Castel, but to Prince Andrea her door had 
been closed for more than a year before this story 
opens, and he occupied Bibirella. 

Torre del Oro held the Crown jewels, and no less 
than four hundred and thirty treasure-caskets, among 
which were hundreds of beautiful cameos and medals, 
and where a black velvet covered table held the crowns, 
orbs, and sceptres. There were collars, splendid 
sapphire and ruby-set girdles, bracelets, rings, and 
clasps in Pactolian profusion ; for many nobles sent 
their most precious gems to the King’s safe keeping, 
and the Chronicle of the Tesoro reads like some 
dream of Midasian hoards. 

In the lower and northern part of the Castel lodged 
the Court, and below-stairs was a motley tribe of 
pretty maids-in-waiting, squires, musicians, pages, 
chamberlains, notable cooks, and skilful barbers ; 
for beauty was served with elaborate rites, and a more 
than Roman luxury of perfumes and baths. 

The stables where hundreds of valuable horses and 
white mules stamped and fretted, and the mews where 
the best falcons of Italy screamed and flapped, were 
of a piece with the general splendour. 

The two chamberlains of Queen and Prince had no 
easy ruling in their two huge households, for the 
extravagance was enormous. The older, wiser Lords 
of the Council shook prudential heads, but without 
avail. 

King Robert had kept open house, and Queen 
Jehanne followed his example. 

The Empress Catherine of Constantinople walked 
along the shady alley in Castel Nuovo gardens, where 
Jehanne had passed anon. 


46 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


She strolled slowly up and down, her hands clasped 
behind her august head, her lips moving silently. 
If was a favourite mannerism of hers, like her way 
of glancing to right and left, as if she expected some- 
thing to start up beside her. Her dark eyes never 
looked one in the face as she talked, or rather never 
seemed to do so, for it was when her thoughts seemed 
to wander most that she was most observant, and 
when she seemed freest that she was most guarded. 
She knew just how to pour sweet oil on vanity’s 
gusty waves, just how to give confidence to a timid 
speaker, and she slew more victims with those two 
weapons than with any other darts in her quiver. 

She had been married early in her teens, and was 
still some years from the shades of fifty ; and after 
her husband’s death in 1331, she lived on in their 
Neapolitan Palazzo, and flattered herself into the 
good graces of Robert and Queen Sancia, though the 
latter, a gentle, timid lady, had no ease with her. 
It was the dove’s instinctive dread of the hawk ; 
but Catherine had the Valois craft (she was niece to 
Philippe le Bel), and, if she were a hawk, hid her 
talons with care, so that Jehanne loved her, most 
of the Provei^aux were her friends, and even Cavaillon 
did not doubt her. Only Boccaccio read deeper, 
though wise-courtier-like, he said nothing save once 
to his friend Petrarch. 

“ The Empress bows in San Gennaro to the altar, 
but her only real god is a little steel statue named 
Power — top of a gold pedestal.” 

Yet if her Imperial title were shadowy, her revenues 
from the rich lands of Achaia, Salonika, and the Morea 
were very solid, and not Jehanne herself went more 
splendidly at Court than this handsome, dark-haired, 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 47 


stately woman, whose jewel-broidered Eastern stuffs 
and gems outshone even Duchess Agnes, her rival — 
to the latter’s great disgust, for she was both younger 
and, feature for feature, more beautiful. 

The bitterest drop, however, in the Empress’s 
golden goblet of life was that her glorious niece was 
married to the thrice odious Andrea — and her own 
sons were free. Catherine’s lips narrowed always at 
the thought. Yet Jehanne loved her well, for she 
spared no pains to win her trust ; whatever girlish 
trouble she fell into, from the soiling of a robe to the 
flouting of an obnoxious minister, she had always 
her Aunt Catherine’s ready sympathy and aid. 

Although her Aunt Agnes was kind, she lacked the 
Empress’s knack of drawing forth confidences, and 
so stood second with her. 

Had the two royal dames been less ready to rival 
each other in small matters, they might have agreed 
better in greater, but of late a common cause had 
drawn them a little closer to each other — and that was 
their hatred of the Hungarians. 

Those detestable arrogant boiars with their pandour 
moustaches and clanking swords ! They filled the 
Castel, they swaggered in the streets, they set at 
naught every Neapolitan they dared, and of late even 
their respect for the higher nobles seemed on the wane. 

As Catherine reached the alley end, and turned 
back towards the outer terrace, whence she could see 
the glorious blue of the Bay, with the shadowy mass 
of Capri in the distance, the afternoon haze just now 
turning it to a violet tint as the west-going sun left 
the east side of the island more shady, the sound of 
hasty steps roused her from her dreams. 

It was the Bishop of Cavaillon and with him a tall, 


48 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


grey-haired, stern-eyed man, whose rich fur-trimmed 
robe (which he wore even in the August heat), stamped 
him Hungarian. 

“ Well, Father ? ” she asked, her brows raised a 
little as she noted that the stranger yet wore spurs on 
his high leather boots and had, even though his 
mantle was dustless, the air of a man fresh from a 
journey. 

Messengers were particularly interesting folk just 
then. 

“ I beg to present to Your Imperial Majesty, the 
Ban of Wallachia, Prince Stefan Barazad, come from 
King Ludwig with a letter to the Queen whom we 
now seek.” 

“ She went to the olive-grove with Prince Andrea 
anon,” said the Empress acknowledging the Ban’s 
careful obeisance. “ Go we thither.” 

“ I have also a letter to his Maj — er — His Highness” 
said the Hungarian in very fair Italian, and then went 
scarlet. 

Catherine started as she thought : “ Clumsy brute ! 
Here he shows his errand’s secret ere ever he sees 
Jehanne ! What imbeciles folks send on missions ! ” 

They found Jehanne seated on a marble bench, 
before a little rustic hut, quaintly fashioned to hold 
a cage of curious birds. 

With head thrown back, and lips screwed up she 
tried to imitate her teacher in the art of whistling like 
them ; he was a limber young spark clad in a peach- 
coloured satin cotte-hardie, and whose handsome dark 
features seemed modelled from some young Greek 
wood god, and whose free manner and sunburned air 
belied his effeminate dress and jewelled hands, neck, 
and ears. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 49 


He was Count Enrico Caracciolo, and with him was 
his brother Ligorio, a pretty boy with a pleasantly 
insolent face, and four or five years younger. 

Catherine’s lips curled in a smile, as she saw under 
her lashes, the Ban’s amazed look at the Queen, as 
both youths laughed and applauded her very passable 
imitation of Count Enrico’s limpid notes. 

“ Listen aunt ! ” she cried, and whistled again. 

She had cast the stern dignity she had worn while 
with Andrea, and the joyous February-humoured 
nymph Boccaccio once named her, shone forth, 
changing her whims like the sun and shower of the 
volatile month which is the Italian April. 

Catherine solemnly presented the Ban and his 
errand. 

“ O ! ” cried she, with a whimsical look at Enrico. 
“ Never care ! I can do’t again to-morrow ! Alas ! 
I must go within to read this most honourable docu- 
ment ! I detest letters on a fine day ! Pray you 
excuse me,” as a conciliation to the Ban, “I am a 
very ready victim to idleness.” 

“ Nay, Majesty, here is the letter which has never 
quitted my person by night or day since my most 
august master gave it to me with his own hand.” 

“ What ! Then I hope the seal was not hard to 
lie upon,” quoth Jehanne frivolously. He looked 
utterly bewildered. Full of King Ludwig’s warnings, 
he had expected to find a light and wanton woman, 
who made of their young Prince a toy, a laughing-stock, 
and whose mere freaks deepened into downright 
frailties. But here was a mere laughing child, who 
apologised prettily and needlessly for her first 
petulance ! But a sharper shook awaited him. 

Jehanne borrowed Enrico’s jewelled dagger, cut 


50 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


the white parchment thongs, took off the round red 
seal, and unrolled the letter. 

It was in Latin, the secondary Court language of the 
day, which she read and spoke with ease, and soon 
yielded its contents. 

Stripped of the pompous forms, the “ Most dear and 
illustrious Cousins,” and strings of titles and commend- 
ations at the end, this is what the Hungarian King 
said to his brother’s wife — 

“ My patience wanes, and if you do not have Andrea 
crowned King of Naples as is his right, so that he 
shares your throne in all, I shall appeal to the Pope 
(to whom I have already written thereon), and if you 
still refuse to comply with my wishes, I shall come to 
Naples and enforce the matter myself.” 

Jehanne’s whole person stiffened as with the closure 
of steel springs. 

It was a severe woman who turned upon Enrico, 
and a voice like that of a judge giving sentence which 
bade him — 

“ Summon the Count of Squillace, the Lord 
Hugues des Baux, and the rest of the Privy Council 
to the Baron’s Hall ! We hold audience as to 
this ! ” 

Rapidly she walked to the Castel ; the others hardly 
able to keep pace with her, and not until she had flung 
herself into the great Throne seat, with its black velvet 
canopy diapered with white Anjevine fleur-de-lys, in 
the Hall, did she speak again. 

“My most dear Father and High Chancellor,” she 
said to Cavaillon, “ yonder is the Chapel. Pray 
that I may have patience to deal with this.” 

“ I do your bidding, daughter,” said the Bishop, 
“ but I am within call, remember.” 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 51 


He was deeply puzzled, for never before had she 
dismissed him thus. 

He shook a warning head at her as he swept out of 
the carved stone doorway, well knowing that he alone 
held any spiritual restraint over her will, since the 
death of pious, gentle Queen Sancia, in the spring of 
that year. 

It was fully half-an-hour before the Council had 
trickled man by man into the Hall, for they had been 
far to seek on such a blazing summer day. 

Jehanne, fallen into a fit of dreams, sat back staring 
at the huge arches of carved wooden beams, of the 
high vaulted roof. 

It was not until the door was flung wide open and 
Prince Andrea hurried in, that she roused herself, and 
adjusted the Throne’s cushions so as to sit quite erect. 

The last man of the Council to make obeisance was 
Geoffory Marzano, Count of Squillace, the Lord High 
Admiral of the realm, a tall, wiry old man, who had 
been left Vice-Regent along with Cavaillon, by King 
Robert, and to hold that office till the Queen should 
have reached her majority at twenty-five. 

This grizzled old sea-lord was one of the few plain- 
spoken men of the Court. Women’s intrigues and 
palterings he held in high contempt, and his trenchant 
hew-and-thrust policy cut through the meshes of 
diplomatic skeins wherein any other would have got 
hopelessly snared. 

Jehanne owed him many a good lesson in statecraft 
of the kind, and she shed on him a little flickering 
smile as he knelt to her, now. Prince Andrea he 
abhorred for a fool. 

Next before him had come the three Seigneurs des 
Baux, of Provence, where their name spelled terror 8 


52 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


and whose banner with its fiery, sixteen-pointed 
comet, had never known defeat, all haughtily proud 
of their mighty House, whose founder was said to be 
the Mage Balthasar himself (whose name was indeed 
their war-cry) — 

“ Au hasard 
Balthasar ! ” 

First of them was the Seigneur Raimond des 
Baux, Grand Chamberlain of Naples, a lanky, black- 
haired man of uncertain age but very certain eyes, 
and a nervous trick of playing with his chain of office 
— which distracted an opponent’s glances from his 
face. 

Then Hugues des Baux, his brother Count d’Avelin, 
Grand Seneschal of Provence, a bold, rough, slash- 
about giant, with a roar like a bull in a battle-charge, 
and whom Pierre de Lascaris called “ The Elephant.” 

Thirdly their cousin, Bertrand, Count of Montes- 
cavieux, the Grand Justicer of Naples. Professional 
soldier was writ large on his strong, lean person, and 
his cold brown eyes below his dark brown hair, showed 
all the steely qualities needful to his office. 

He suggested the camp even in Court silks, and 
never even on the most peaceful occasions did he quit 
his heavy double-edged blade. 

He was as nearly Count Amaury’s confidant as any 
man ever was, and this seemed to satisfy his sociable 
instincts, for he wore no lady’s colours in his cap, nor 
cared a fig for the trovere’s craft, beyond a camp song 
or so. 

There were only a dozen other Provensal lords 
present, but a good many Neapolitans, beginning with 
Roger Sanseverino, Head of the famous House, a thin, 
grey-haired man of fifty, eagle-nosed, eagle-quick in 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 53 


his stoop on any matter. Giacomo dei’ Cavalcanti, 
a noted warrior, winner of much glory on land for 
King Robert, and Giovanni Chiaramonte, the victor 
of the Second Sicilian Naval Invasion, a great friend 
of Marzano’s, and a born fighter. Filippo di Alta- 
monte, and Tommaso Sanseverino, Roger’s brother, 
Count of Marsico, also a famous soldier. Bernado 
d’Acquino, Count of Laureto, and Tristan Caracciolo, 
uncle to Enrico, a grave, quiet scholar, writer of that 
famous Chronicle which still survives. 

Others there were, for whose names and styles it 
boots not, but who were the realm’s highest, and 
most of whom had been King Robert’s trusted 
Councillors. 

Curiously, though in peace, the Neapolitans and 
Provenyaux bickered jealously, in time of trouble they 
would shelve their private disputes, and follow 
Jehanne with the promptness of a single army called 
to drill, the Provenyaux headed by the Des Baux, the 
Neapolitans by Roger Sanseverino and Marzano, who 
had, despite his southern birth, all the calm resolve 
and reserved stolidity of a northern man. 

Below Jehanne and Andrea’s dais were other chairs 
for the Princes of the blood, where now sat Prince 
Robert of Durazzo, and his cousin Philippe of Taranto, 
two fair-haired lads with the clear Anjevine features 
and quick Anjevine smile. Their brothers were 
absent on some frolic ; and behind them on a little 
higher chair was the Empress, who sat bolt upright, 
and fixed the Hungarians with her eyes as they whis- 
pered among themselves. 

When Prince Andrea had planted himself on his 
seat, and the Count of Squillace had coughed to inti- 
mate some one ought to speak, Jehanne broke the 


54 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


long silence. She took the crushed letter and threw 
it at the latter. 

“ Read, my lord ! I shall choke if I attempt it ! ” 
she said. 

The door swung back, and in strutted Friar Roberto 
di Milleto. 

He had sallied up the hall to stand behind his 
master, when Jehanne stopped him. 

“ Is your confessor needful ? ” she said to Andrea. 

“ Wherefore not ? The Church ” began he, but 

she waved the friar away. 

“I sent my Bishop to pray for the good ordering of 
all here — your friar can very well go help him. 
Father, you will find the Bishop of Cavaillon in the 
Chapel.” 

The friar’s beady eyes fairly goggled in his purple 
face. He puffed out swollen lips and walked slowly 
out, only to run against Duchess Agnes of Durazzo, 
gorgeous in a pale blue silk gown and girdle of pearls, 
fluttering in like some fluffy bird. 

“ My lady mother would be late to her own funeral!” 
grinned Count Robert to Prince Philippe. “ What is 
a-foot ? If Jehanne’s eyes count for aught she is in a 
rare rage, and we shall be repaid for our disturbed 
siestas.” 

“E’en so!” returned the other equally low-voiced, 
as he passed to his cousin his elegant gold comfit-box. 
“ See old Kill-Joy’s face also ! By Venus, this 
promises some fun ! Sh — h, listen ! ” 

Through its florid Latin phrasing Count Geoffory 
read the King of Hungary’s imposing letter ; the 
Provengaux heard with grim immobility, the lighter 
Neapolitans with open dismay, and the Hungarians 
with the air of hearing something already heard, and 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 55 


with scarcely suppressed triumph — that is, their 
younger more careless spirits did. 

44 I well see the King’s wishes for his brother’s wel- 
fare ! ” said Jehanne in a curiously level tone. 44 He 
would see him wear my crown — Bene ! But he for- 
gets that when my grandsire joined my hand to that 
of the Prince, there was no mention then made, that 
he should ever be more than my Consort. Why did 
not Hungary speak then ? ” 

The Hungarians looked at each other. Empress 
Catherine smiled to herself. Jehanne went on : 44 1 do 
not say so much about the King’s motive, for that 
is easily understood, but the tone of command is what 
offends both my own and my crown’s dignity ! I 
refuse to comply with such demands, and I look to 
you, my lords, to support my resolution ! ” 

From her party rose the hum of protest befitting 
this. Robert of Durazzo caught such scraps as : 
44 What ? Insolence ! San Gennaro — as if we were 
a provincial burgher-guild ! They will ask the sceptre 
itself next ! ” 

At last Squillace hushed them. 

44 Most High Majesty ! Clearly Naples and Provence 
lie as ever at your royal feet ! And thus we can 
instantly answer with one voice to King Ludwig’s 
demands — No ! ” 

Andrea, grown white, sprang to his feet excitedly, 
his hands playing with his silken girdle-pouch. 

44 For sure he has a letter from dear brother Ludwig 
in’t,” tittered Prince Philippe to his cousin. 

44 Hungarians, I beg you to note that the Queen’s 
Council is treating the demands of Hungary with con- 
tempt ! ” he cried. 41 This must be discussed ! We 
cannot have the answer to her king so lightly decided ! 


56 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


The Count of Squillace forgets we have not yet had the 

vote of my nobles — it must be weighed gravely ” 

His efforts at restraint were painful. 

The Queen waved her hand. 

“ Let us hear the Hungarian advocate then ! 

Matthias Bathory, the powerful Ban of Croatia, rose. 
He was Andrea’s right-hand man, and along with 
Friar Robert made most of the arrows shot by the 
Prince. He wore the half-eastern dress of his land, 
and his fierce eyes had much of the oriental in their 
subtle fires. 

“ Majesties and nobles 1 The Prince has voiced 
the Hungarian wishes ! Our King has Naples’ wel- 
fare at heart, and has viewed with sadness the Queen’s 
attitude towards her husband. For what is more 
sorrowful than to see husband and wife at variance ? 
And what more blessed than to bring peace between 
them ? My dear lord, the King, has seen (as with the 
eyes of all Europe) that a king a needful upon the 
throne of Naples. To rule alone is no task for a 
woman ” — Jehanne smiled scornfully — “ and more- 
over so young a woman. It is highly needful for her 
to have a strong help therewith ; for even as husband 
rules wife, so does a King a — Kingdom — and this is 
truth ! ” 

Jehanne frowned sharply as he paused, and a growl 
ran through her ranks, as he went on : “ Thus, since 
we see plainly proven that it is right the Prince should 
rule also, and that Hungary wishes to aid Naples, 
I call on your support ! Let there be peace over it ! 
I assure you that Hungary’s King has the matter 
deeply at heart — so deeply that he will not halt at 
re-asking his question. Nay, more ! I, his minister, 
tell you plainly that he is most earnest in saving that 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 57 


he will come to Naples to arrange the matter himself, 
and if he should be provoked — but I cannot further 
interpret my King’s thoughts. 

“ Only war — civil war — is a horrible thing — a need- 
less curse ; and I call on her Majesty to relent, and 
revoke her decision, give her loving spouse his 
rights, and so stand honoured in wifely love and 
glory ! ” 

There were twenty sword-hilts being hard gripped 
in the Queen’s party, as many dark Magyar scowls 
among Andrea’s ; there was a hot storm-bubble 
ready to burst if ever there was, when suddenly came 
a ridiculous anticlimax. 

44 Oh, oh ! I am faint ! Clemence ! Lazy maid, 
run quickly for my pomander ! — some perfume — any- 
thing ! ” tinkled the pretty plaintive voice of Duchess 
Agnes, clear in the deep hush following the Ban’s 
speech. 

Count Robert laughed outright, and so did Prince 
Philippe — laughter which was infectious, and 
Jehanne’s men broke out into a roar quite fatal to 
the effect of the Ban’s oration. Only Jehanne, too 
strung with emotion to join, sat with parted lips, 
staring at her husband as he stood there. His screech 
rose over the hum like that of an angry sea-bird in a 
storm. 

44 By St. Ladislaus ! I will not be mocked ! Hear 
you that ? O idiots all ! I am the King ! ’’ His 
rage mastered him completely. 

44 No one mocks you, Prince ! ” said Jehanne, 
suddenly alert again. “ We do but laugh at my aunt 
of Durazzo.” 

At the cool answer he fumed the more, and the 
giddy Count and Prince nudged each other — the only 


58 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


people who really enjoyed the disorder. He turned 
on the hall like a snapping terrier at bay : 

“ You go too far, you Neapolitans and Prove^aux ! 
By St. Andrea of Pruth, my patron, I will have order 
in my subjects ! I say I am King now in fact, and 
shall be King in name, so soon as my brother says the 
word. Madam wife, you cannot always insult your 
husband as you do to-day ! I will send your reply 
to him. You will have me crowned King so soon as 
we can get the Pope’s Legate here to do it. You 
will begin by ordering quiet your unruly people 
here ” 

“ My people ? I thought you called them yours 
anon ! ” came her biting answer. “ Now, Prince, 
this grows too raffish for our Council. You hear 
Naples and Provence reply to you ? Even were my 
private wishes yours, I could not go against my 
faithful barons’ wills. It is they who fight for me, 
they who die in my cause. I will not put on them a 
Hungarian yoke to please any king alive, and there 
you have my final answer — No ! ” 

The cheer that followed threatened to rend the 
roof, but the sharp snarls of the Prince’s party rushed 
close behind it, like the backward hiss of a receding 
wave. Jehanne sprang to her feet, a flame in her eye 
that set Marzano a-foot also. 

“ Not a man of this Council has remembered that 
we hold the power to check both Hungary and all 
other dissentients to our will ! ” she cried. “ I have 
the power to dissolve the Regency — if the Council 
give consent ! And if I do get thus sole power, I 
swear by the blood of San Gennaro, that I will keep 
my throne secure, down to the last man and last 
ounce of gold in my queendom ! 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 59 


“ Now insist that I cede you the Crown if you 
dare ! ” 

Had Vesuvius in convulsion burst the earth below, 
and thrown up a stream of lava in the midst of that 
vast room’s floor, the consternation could have been 
no greater. 

Every man present knew that the Queen had seized 
the deadliest weapon within her reach, and that if 
the Council and two Regents were agreed upon dis- 
solution, and to hand the Queen the reins of Naples, 
ere her attaining her majority, then the power of 
Hungary was indeed upon the wane. 

There was no disputing King Robert’s will, without 
setting the other European powers and the Pope by 
the ears, for to impugn it was to outrage all the laws 
of the Empire. 

Marzano sniffed the air as a horse does before the 
coming thunderstorm, eyed his young mistress ador- 
ingly, and laughed a short noiseless laugh. 

“ I give my consent if the Queen wishes. My will 
is Queen Jehanne’s will,” he said briefly. The Council 
looked at each other in utter amazement. But they 
were loyal to their leaders. The Empress leaned far 
forward, her gaze hot on Jehanne. 

“You have my vote to do as you will, fair niece 1 ” 
she said. 

“ Ha ! San Grail ! ” snorted Roger Sanseverino, 
his thin face working with excitement. “ I speak 
for Naples ! We are your men in this matter ! 
The Council may be dissolved — unless the Prince 
hears reason, and agrees that we still rule for 
you, and save you the trouble of refusing King 
Ludwig ! We lack only the Bishop of Cavaillon’s 
word, and ” 


60 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 

“ And mine ! I uphold the Queen ! ” shouted the 
three des Baux, with one voice. 

“ Fetch him hither, then ! ” cried Jehanne, and a 
page sped out chapelwards. 

But both Croatia, and the other great Hungarian 
Voivode, Nicholas of Transylvania (Niccolo Ungaro 
to Neapolitans) both saw farther than their master. 
They knew they must gain time, and they feared the 
explosion of the train they had fired that day, and 
took hasty counsel together. Just as Cavaillon 
appeared, Croatia rose again, simmering with sup- 
pressed wrath but prudence masking it. 

“ The Prince will take further counsel ere he decides 
more,” he announced. “ It will be to the advantage 
of neither Queen nor State if the Council act thus 
hastily. A grave thing, my lords ! It must be 
weighed at length ” 

Jehanne broke him off, with impatiently lifted 
hand. 

44 Wait ! No — our Lady ! I have told you my 
reply, even if I wait till doomsday ! Father ” — to 
Cavaillon — 44 you will indite for ME a scroll to my 
Cousin of Hungary and say that for many reasons I 
regret that I cannot comply with his demands, and 
that I trust he will not insist on themiurther, as we are 
prepared to resist them with equal firmness ! Enough ! 
I have spoken ! My most loyal subjects, from my 
heart I thank you for your support in this affair. 
Your interests are my interests, and I will stand by 
you as you have done by me. The audience may 
disperse. I will inform my sister of its deeds, and 
Count of Squillace, do you tell the Bishop what has 
passed in his absence.” 

In a perfect hubbub, Andrea, too angry to keep 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 61 


from reviling every one openly, was dragged off to 
his apartments by the prudent Croatia and Tran- 
sylvania. Jehanne, thrusting aside all questions and 
questioners, went up to the royal rooms on the first 
floor of the Castel. 


CHAPTER IV 


Jehanne’s favourite room in the Royal Suite was 
more like a rich casket than aught else, and thither 
she went from the ominous Council, passing to it 
through the Chapel, from which a wonderful spiral 
staircase like a twisting shell led up to an anteroom 
gorgeously frescoed from ceiling to floor, and out of 
which led the Queen’s own bedchamber. 

Through many exquisite stained-glass windows 
the evening light streamed, touching up the sparkles 
on a hundred costly glitters within. The walls, 
wherever they were not richly painted, were hung 
with pale blue brocade worked alternately with 
golden fleur-de-lys and nine-pointed crowns, and the 
sandalwood furniture was inlaid with silver and 
mother-of-pearl, while long Venetian mirrors reflected 
all the costly litter of a young and splendid Queen — 
fans, caskets, gem set tazze, and countless precious 
trifles. 

By one open casement on a low stool, a woman 
sewed the seed pearls on a dainty glove, and a girl 
knelt by her on a pile of blue and white cushions, at 
work on its fellow. The woman was tall, dark, 
severe of mien, with black hair strained back under 
a curious coif of silk kerchiefs, proclaiming her 
Sicilian. She was Filippa, called by the Proven^aux 
“ La Catenoise,” for she had been wife to a poor 
62 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 63 


Catanian fisherman when Queen Sancia had seen her 
while in Sicily, and taken a fancy to have her for 
Jehanne and Marie’s nurse. 

Thence, however, she had risen steadily, and when 
her deserted fisherman died she had married an extra- 
ordinary character, a Moor once a slave, but whom 
his master, Count Raimondo di Cabano, a childless 
man, had freed, educated and adopted as a son, and 
whose title Jehanne granted him at his benefactor’s 
death. Filippa’s faculty for self-education was 
wonderful, and she had achieved her new role of 
Countess most admirably, while her daughter by her 
first marriage, Sancia, had of course had many advan- 
tages in her mother’s rise, and at the age of eighteen 
married the old Count of Morcone and became 
Jehanne’s lady-in-waiting, while her half-brother 
Berto had been made Count of Eboli and Majordomo 
of the Queen’s household. 

Jehanne knelt beside Filippa and hid her face on 
her shoulder, her pride cast with her Council’s cares. 

“ Giannina mia ! What is wrong, carissima ? ” 
asked “La Catenoise” in a soft, caressing tone. 
“ What grieves my sweet ? Andrea ? ” 

“ I shall be myself again presently. They have 
driven me over far ! Next they will ask my head ! ” 
She told them what had passed, and the two looked 
at each other with tightened lips. 

64 Surely, Friar Robert is bottom of this coil ! ” said 
Filippa. “The Prince would never clutch at the 
crown (and its cares) half so eagerly were he unbacked 
by that thrice abominable priest ! Were I thee, 
adorata mia, I would make an end of the wretch ! 
Make the Pope remove him from Naples — and then 
see if Andrea be as flighty ! ” 


64 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


“ I would — but they would make a real end of me 
if so ! I dare scarce eat or drink, and oft I dream of 
a drawn knife. It would wear out a bronze statue ! 
Why, oh, why is a Queen wedded in hate ! ” 

She strode up and down clenching her slender hands. 
“ Cheer thee, cuore dolce ! All times pass. Think 
no more of it now. Thou hast done all possible, and 
the saints will aid the rest. Write to the Holy Father 
thy side of it, and of the friar’s mischief. Show 
Andrea thou mockest his threats — go sing on the 
water with the other gay band. Shall I tell Berto 
to order the feluccas ? ” 

Sancia looked up, her gaze kindling. 

“ Majesty, you were sublime ! But it means 

war ” She did not heed her mother’s sign to be 

silent. 

46 Ay — I know,” said Jehanne wearily. “ But it 
would lift the Hungarian weight here — for a time at 
least ” 

“ One of their accursed Black Ritters, of Conrad 
the Wolf’s brigands, has run poor Giacomo 
Sanseverino through the throat last night — he may 
die ; and another insulted Berto over a nothing — an 
accidental push against a wall. Berto apologised, and 
he cursed all monkey slaves.” 

“ Oh, Royal State ! Oh, Royal Mockery ! ” cried 
Jehanne impetuously. “ Were Andrea in my place 
he would go mad ! I have all the burden and none 
of the power ! Would I could hang every Hungarian 
over all the walls of Naples ! I am overwrought to- 
day. I feel I must speak did they all hear me ! ” 

“ And to whom else shouldst speak, if not to us, 
cara ? We are safe and silent,” said Filippa tenderly, 
yet with a fierce gleam in her eye. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 65 


“ I know — ah, how my head aches ! ” She clasped 
it with painful gesture and pushed back the golden 
waves from her temples as if to lift a weight. She 
leaned from the window overhanging the broad white 
terrace, with its row of tall statues, and a red-clad 
figure sauntered by. 

It was Amaury, who held up to her a glorious 
crimson rose he had gathered, and she deftly caught 
and kissed it as he threw it aloft. 

She always kissed roses, which were, she declared, 
the kisses of Venus. 

4 4 We are going on the Bay to-night, Count ! It is 
full moon. Stay — get me that sketch of the decora- 
tion for the Lists’ entrance at Capua, that you pro- 
mised. I will descend.” 

She let Sancia array her in a long dark blue silk 
robe, powdered with golden crescents and stars, and 
presently floated down the broad marble path, like 
some graceful swan on the clear waters of Pompeian 
Sarno, and he greeted her with an impromptu couplet 
which rhymes in Provencal : 

“ If thou, my swan-queen on the ripples clear, 

Should’st pass adown the Styx, the waters dread 
Would straightway turn to an Elysian stream 
To worthily reflect your glories white.” 

“ Fantast ! ” she cried, yet not ill-pleased. 44 You 
grow as bad as Arnaud and the rest of them ! Show 
the drawings forthwith.” 

44 Your will is law, Majesty ! ” mimicking, 
cleverly enough, the Count of Squillace ; and she 
laughed gaily. 

44 Excellent ! ” she said, of the drawings. 44 You 
should be an artist instead of soldier, Count. If war 
injured your arm or sight, ’twould be a real loss to art, 

F 


66 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Nay ! Protest not that you will die of delight because 
I say so — leave that to idler tongues — and take my 
advice seriously, and study in the Schools. Then 
you can, maybe, paint me some of the new Chapel’s 
walls in Santa Chiara. Passaggiando — I am almost 
decided upon its title. 

“ Grandsire wished to devote it to the Queen of 
Heaven, and as ’twas his last thought, I deem Santa 
Maria L’lncoronata a happy name.” 

Amaury raised his brows in surprise. Never since 
the days of their earliest acquaintance, w T hen she had 
had a child’s freedom of speech, had she spoken so 
confidentially apart with him. 

“ It could not be better,” he answered. “ I am 
sincere in agreeing with you ; did I not think so, 1 
would differ, and trust to your gracious mood for 
pardon. Also ’tis useless to feign aught before your 
keen eyes. It is my firm belief that you read all our 
souls as Giovanni does his books, and I fear what you 
see in some of our young feather-brains must be un- 
easy reading — seeing how matters are turning, when 
strength of both head and arm is so needful.” 

It was her turn to be surprised. Here was frivolous 
Amaury in a much better light, td her present frame 
of mind. The delicate flattery of her perception she 
knew for truth, but the straightforward tone of the 
rest pleased her more. She sought him, keenly, but 
his eyes met hers as passionlessly and frankly as 
another woman’s might have done. 

“ I must speak out upon these things,” he pursued, 
heedless of the etiquette whereby he should have 
awaited her answer. “ For you heard — this after- 
noon ? — and though I would not weary you, I know 
you think only of it.” 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 67 


“ What can I do ? ” she said fiercely, her pent-up 
feeling breaking through her efforts at temporary 
forgetfulness. “ I wish that my threats may come 
true — that the Regency may be dissolved, so that 
I reign at last ! Ah ! Then I will break openly with 
Hungary — and it may vanquish me and slay me ! 
But I shall have peace at last from this vile world ! 
Nevermore could such dogs insult me ! Welcome the 
end ! I must have either peace or freedom 1 ” 

“ Eh, Holy Shroud ! Say not so darkly ! Dread 
not such end ! You heard that Provence is with you 
to a man, and where it leads Naples must follow ! 
The Ban’s threats are folly, so far as they seem 
prophecy ! War — there may be, but I, Savoy, assure 
you that the only result would be the freedom of 
Naples from Hungary’s yoke ! Call Europe to aid 
you ! You, fair and tearful, would enlist even St. 
Antony’s sympathies ! — how much more those of 
France and the Empire ? The Holy See — is the 
hardest to win, but gold is great when all else fails ! ” 
He was the Red Count now with a vengeance : his 
eloquence flamed up, his eyes glowed, his voice rang 
like sword on shield hard and clear. He noted the 
answering flash in her eyes, and the sharp quiver that 
ran through her from head to foot, like the leap of a 
bow, respondent to the string’s tension. 

“You raise new hope ! ” she cried. “Yet can I 
rely upon my forces ? There is my uncertainty — 
’tis so easy for them to protest, but when the reality 
arrives — will they keep true ? As one soldier to 
another, tell me — Can we drive out the foes ? ” 

“ We can ! Upon the White Rood we can ! But 
you, the Queen, must lead us ! We must be led by 
Anjou, we must have Queen Jehanne at our head — we 


68 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


trust you as the Madonna herself ! I am about in 
the camps at all hours — and ever I hear the rough 
men-at-arms say, 6 If She would, She could free us ! ’ 
In the poorest Vici, the children say alike, 4 If the 
Queen would, she could send hence the Hungarians.’ 

44 While the barons — you heard ! Thus I bid you 
take hope, and lead us fearless where you will — for 
the people’s souls are with you — only they of Naples 
fear the Hungarians as yet. But the Proven£aux 
do not. . . .” 

44 1 am proud to be the Countess of Provence ! ” 
She was heating white-hot at his martial fire, and the 
high pride of Anjou rose to meet the flame also. Then 
as suddenly she sobered, and lowered her high-held 
head. “Yet I doubt the Neapolitan lords. I am so 
alone — for even Marie would hold Charles’s safety 
above the kingdom’s fate, I fear ! We have shared 
much trouble, but never red war itself. I tremble 
for my friends’ lives, too, though not for my own — 
little as I think they may care for me ” 

They were close to a little arbour in the nook of a 
wall quite hidden from any prying eyes ; the gardens 
were full of such shelters. 

He knelt, and put his hands between hers, in the 
vassal’s way to his seigneur. 

44 My liege lady, my Countess ! ” he said solemnly, 
as if before an altar, 44 1 am going to be bold enough 
to ask your trust in these great things. Once have 
I laid hands in yours as Count of Savoy ; now I ask 
leave to lay them as man and knight ! Then I did 
homage for my lands, and gave you right over them : 
now I give you right over my soul and its truth ! So 
aid me our Lady ! By the Holy Shroud, our House 
of Savoy’s sacred relic, I swear 1 ” 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 69 


The little tremble in her voice as she had confessed 
her fears had set him ablaze under his calm resolve to 
play the devoted councillor only, but his control was 
great and he looked up at her with the serene high- 
purposed gaze of a devotee before a shrine. 

Jehanne gripped his hands closely in hers, prey to 
three emotions : first, her sharp longing for action 
against her foes ; second, relief at his new attitude ; 
and lastly, warm comfort in the strength of his touch. 
It felt proof of his power as lord of Savoy — power 
which was now wholly hers. She thrilled at it, but 
said nothing. He rose and stood by her, yet did not 
meet her gaze ; under his downcast lids a very different 
fire from patriotism’s flame glowed, but that she 
could not see. 

44 Say only that you trust me now,” he said very 
quietly. 

44 I do believe and trust you ! And in state matters 
you shall have my inmost confidence ” 

“ But — in private ” he hazarded, startled and 

chilled. 

She looked at him as at a needless interrupter. 

4 4 Why ? Have we not ever been good friends ? 
Foolish Count ! 

44 Now that I am sure you wish me for friend as 
well as Queen, now that you have dropped that 
troveresque tone which became you not so well as 
this your soldier’s humour (despite your famous 
canzone, mon ami !), I know with whom to deal, and 
can unveil my thoughts somewhat. We are true 
friends ! My hand upon it, comrade ! ” 

He clasped it firmly, then unpermitted bent and 
kissed it twice, and then, as a long shadow fell on the 
terrace without, flung back his head and sang out in 


70 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


his pleasant, well-trained voice a snatch of a canzone 
of Raimond de MiravaPs : 

“ Amor me fai cantar et esbaudir 
Bona domna nos deu d’amor gequir — ! ” 

Boccaccio was taking a little stroll in the setting 
sun’s light, and by his nodding head and moving lips, 
composing something. 

“ Methinks the other song goes better, Count ! ” 
said Jehanne distinctly, as if they had only spoken 
of songs. “ Aha ! ’Ser Giovanni ! What are you 
about ? ” 

“ I will fetch you the other song-words, Altesse,” 
said Amaury hastily. 

“ While I walk with Messer here.” She went out 
upon the terrace, and Amaury did a risky thing, 
considering what had just passed. A little golden 
hook had fallen from her gown to the arbour floor ; 
he dropped his handkerchief over it and, as she passed 
out, lifted it to his lips and kissed it with all the heat 
he dared not lay upon her hand. 

But she spied him, and that one little surreptitious 
act set all her doubts of his meanings afloat in her 
mind again ; however, Boccaccio’s cheerful face 
diverted her attention, and she slipped her hand 
through his arm as Amaury vanished. 

Below them, bathed in floods of the wonderful 
evening light, with its changing shadows varying in 
colour like the rainbow, from soft gold to blue and 
heliotrope, soon to deepen into purple night, lay the 
gardens, with their winding walks and little pleas- 
aunces and fountains, among the palms and olives. 
Jehanne sighed and looked at the sun as his vast 
round shield dropped over the far western horizon 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 71 


behind Misenium, and turned to the King of Story- 
Makers beside her. 

He of all the Court went nearest to understanding 
her ; he studied her whims, her rages, her gentler 
hours, with never-ending interest and affection, 
without the least servility or self-seeking motive ; 
for he was assured of her favour, firmly based in her 
confidence, and never halted to tell her the truth — 
even when it was unpleasing. 

“ Light of the World : Luce del Mondo, high honour 
of Italy,” he called her, and for him that light was 
never dimmed ; for had her sins been ten times greater, 
had every word her enemies said been true, his belief 
in her would have remained unshaken. His affection 
for her was the firmer and more brotherly-true, since 
his passionate heart was given eternally to the exquis- 
itely lovely woman known to the world since, as La 
Fiametta and to the Court then, as Madame Marie 
de Sabran, Countess of Acquino — whom Jehanne also 
knew and loved well. 

“ ’Ser Nino,” she said, using the affectionate 
diminutive she always did in private. “Here is a 
strange question. What is the truest Love ? ” 

“ Fanciulla mia ! ” raising his brows in utter 
wonderment, “ you may as well ask me — what is life ! 
You — to ask me such a thing ! A child’s question, 
Reginnina ! Why ? ” 

“ I knew you would start at my seeming folly. 
Wait — I mean what I say. I did not ask the wider 
meaning of casual love, but of the high True Love, 
which we seek always and never find. What is it ? ” 

“ I have spent most part of my life in trying to 
define that very thing, carissima ! And although I 
am said to have some indifferent skill in language, 


72 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


and some craft in the Gaie Science, yet I will admit 
to you that even at my age I cannot yet tell you. 
Love ! Why, you may as well ask me to describe 
to you the existing shades of light in a sunset without 
a given example — for your question also has no 
example. You must have circumstances to go upon 
— and even then there is no fixed standard ! Yet — 
amazement ! Who should know more of Love than 
you, the Queen of a hundred hearts, the judge of as 
many Courts d’ Amour ? It is heresy of you to ask 
me — fi done ! ma Proven^ale ! ” 

“ ’Tis just there I stumble ! The Love we have 
here is not the Love whereof I ask you. The singing, 
protesting, swooning Love of our troveres I doubt 
entirely. It seems to me the Love of sunshine and 
holiday as light as the airs it goes to on the vielle ; 
nay more, I am certain that half the clouds it 
professes to weather by troth keeping, are shams 
created only to disperse, and that in the storms of 
opposition, danger and death, it would fly away fast 
as a bird. True, our young men draw swords on 
each other for what they call Love, but would they 
do a like amount of suffering if they gained no glory 
therefrom and their sacrifice were unknown ? I have 
long sought the Court for such a case, but never 
found one. Or, again, they endure long for Love, 
but they always ask a mortal reward in the end — 
never serve the spirit only. The Courts d’ Amour 
and their votaries’ pleasant flowery chains of bondage 
to one lady only strike me as too weak for a great, 
true test. Take we Arnaud de Coutignac. He serves 
me, he loves me. So far good. But were I not Queen, 
were I not fairer than most women (folly to disguise 
that I know it), I am sure he would not thus travel 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 73 


half Europe over for a glance at me, write songs to 
my very shoon, and perform a dozen fine actions in 
my name. He would even suffer death if it might 
be known ’twas for me, and that I would weep a 
little for him. But it is not — no, ten times no ! — 
True Love, the Love that sees the Soul and loves 
that alone, through all dangers, all tortures. I cannot 
believe that this Love which I have imaged in my 
heart exists. Tell me, ’Ser Nino, your thought. 
Does Love still walk the world ? ” 

His face lighted with a sudden animation, and he 
answered in a curious restrained voice, overflowing 
with eagerness, like one suddenly questioned on his 
heart’s dearest subject, and yet represses his words, 
fearing to drown his listener in his own enthusiasm. 

“ Love once ruled the whole world, ma mie — once 
in Greece, when the thirst for gold and other follies 
was scarce known, and Love went hand in hand with 
valour. Now he has left the unworthy earth, and 
only reveals himself in blessed visions and to few 
people ; yet, when those few behold him, they are 
his high priests and adorers all their lives. You ask 
me what this Love is like ? Eh, santissima ! It is a 
vast sweeping wave, that takes all with it, and never 
heeds the suffering it causes. Like sunrays, there is 
no keeping it out where it wills to enter — surely it 
finds a chink, screen you never so well ! It comes in 
the hour when it is least expected — then beware ! 
For if those rays once reach your inner heart, they are 
like sunshine on the closed calyx of a flower — it 
begins to open, and though you would fain close the 
leaves again, it is impossible — and it scorches and 
burns like flame. But the flame is one which you 
hug, and like a vestal worship even when it slays ! 


74 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


This Love is heedless of either adverse circumstances 
or rewards in material shape. No sacrifice is too 
great, no barrier too high for it to break down, and 
none who have felt its utter sorrow, can ever regret 
its passage for there is in its deepest depths a joy 
which outweighs all the rest. Only, as I have said, 
it is not a heeder of mortal frames or mortal failings ; 
it is the voice of soul to soul, and in that com- 
munion none other can be heard — and there you have 
True Love as nearly as ever I can give it to your 
mind ! ” 

“ Ay ! This is the Love I figured — you read my 
thoughts ! But, save your own case only, I am sure 
there is none of it in Naples ! Would I could find just 
another example to assure me it yet lives ” 

“ Cara, there are some. But not at Court — only 
shadows of the real glory there. To see that you and 
Sancia must put on simple mantles some night, and 
come with me to the city where among the folk I can 
show you something like a humble copy of our ideal, 
of True Love’s self.” 

“ I will come,” she answered, clasping her hands 
behind her head, the dark blue of the long falling 
sleeves showing her beautiful arms, white as swan’s 
wings. “ Yea, Love is not at Court, for all our talk 
of him there — though the troveres’ conceits are dainty 
and charming — still, they do serve to help me picture 
the Reality.” 

“ Ah, cara mia ! ” cried he, carried away by his 
own deeply-stirred memories of the Flame as it came 
to him, forgetful of discretion. “ If only You might 
feel the flame itself ! Ah, Santa Yergine ! It 
would be worth all the pain I myself have suffered in 
my life to know that you, too, have Lived.” 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 75 


He stopped short, afraid to say more ; but Jehanne 
was watching the crimson sunset clouds with the 
dreamy air and smile of one who wanders afar in fair 
fields of thought. 

“ I have seen one curious result of the Court-Love, 
which we are agreed is not the True,” she said slowly. 
“ It blinds each lover to the other’s failings. Foulquet 
and Erminetta, now. Though outwardly they scorn 
each other, secretly they find no faults ; but I can spy 
a dozen. — Meseems even in True Love I could not 
be so blind ” 

“No, by our Lady’s Crown ! ’’ swore Messer 
Giovanni. “ But theirs is not the True, nor could You 
ever be as they are! For you know well enough, 
Queen Jehanne, that there lives no soul worthy to be 
your peer in the kingdom of Love ; and if there ever 
did, then God help Naples and you ! There ! ” 

She still mused, and smiled half sadly, half hope- 
fully, with faith in her idea ; and then sighed, as if 
brought from clouds to earth again. 

“ You see far and clearly, ’Ser Nino. No — I shall 
never know True Love, and ’tis a merciful loss, for 
placed as I am — what could come ? ” 

“Yet see — I will tell you somewhat I have never 
even told Marie. It was truly the root of my mad 
question anon ; I wished to see if you defined aught 
like my feelings when this odd thing happed. 

“ Once — long ere Prince Andrea came — I had a 
dream. Dream or vision — I can never decide which 
it was. One night Filippa had left me, and the light 
burned low, and, bene ! — I never can tell if I slept 
or woke, but suddenly I seemed upon a great stretch 
of sandy shore, like Baia, alone. 

“ Then from the sea floated, dimly as things do in 


76 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


dreams, a little cloud of smoke, which stopped and 
parted before me, and a face — distinct as yours is 
now — looked into mine. ’Twas that of a man of, 
perchance, thirty, the handsomest, yet most powerful, 
I ever saw. The features were straight, the skin very 
white, the brows straight also, and rather darker than 
the short waves of reddish gold hair which fell to the 
collar, and the mouth was firm even in its smile. 
But the eyes ! Ah, ’Ser Nino ! — they looked into 
mine with a look I never saw before — I fear I never 
shall again ! I could have cried for joy and gladness 
— the strangest, maddest whirl of thoughts took me. 
I knew him well, yet — how could I ? I had no fear 
or shyness, and he leaned downwards, for he was very 
tall, and kissed my lips, and the tumult this set astir 
in me must have roused me from the dream, for with a 
puff of mist all vanished, and I lay on my bed, 
blinking at the dim light again ! I can limn him no 
better — yet he has haunted me ever since. I seek 
him vainly in all new-comers to Court. He was too 
splendid to be mortal ! He was a vision of some old 
god haunting this Campanian shore ! Perhaps he 
was Apollo — who knows ? ” 

She smiled, and kissed her hand airily to the setting 
sun. “ Symbol of the Bright-Haired God, all hail ! ” 
she said ; and then, as if she rather repented her 
revelation, turned sharply on her hearer. 

“ Understand, ’Ser Nino, I have never told any but 
you ! I must within now to prepare for our sail 
this evening.” 

She left him musing at the terrace-end, over the 
wall, just below one of the great towers ; and as he 
watched her go he murmured aloud, unconsciously : 
“ Even as she says, her soul sleeps ! But woe to her 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 77 


throne and her enemies if ever that soul awakes, and 
Apollo appears ! ” 

Meanwhile, Prince Andrea, with Friar Robert at 
his elbow, was laboriously scrawling a most venomous 
epistle to his brother, King Ludwig. 


CHAPTER V 


The disguised Prince of Taranto and his sister 
rode merrily toward Naples, and as they jogged 
along the white road on their mules, Louis unfolded 
his plan. 

“ Ma petite, in Naples we shall need care lest we are 
known ? ” 

She nodded. 

“ Philippe and Robert are easily avoided, as both 
are unobservant of humble folk ; but our mother ” 

“ Has hawk’s eyes ” 

“ Ay, also Messer Niccolo. Neither must spy us. 
We will only amuse ourselves by attending riotous 
feasts where he would not go. We have enough gold 
to last. And we had best pass as husband and wife, 
to save you any unwelcome gallantries. Hey, but 
we will have a merry time, if all goes well ! I can 
only just call to mind the streets of Naples, where I 
passed as a little lad, but the Castel I mind better — 
enough to find our way now. How dark and grand 
the mountains rise — yon pass will take us over the 
first part of the range, and by to-morrow nightfall 
we shall cross it. May we meet no worse company 
than ourselves.” 

“ I fear none while with you, Louis,” returned she ; 
and so they rode, he beguiling the way for her with 
stories of his wild adventures in Greece. 

78 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 79 


No more befell them between the mountains and 
Salerno, but at the little hamlet of Pavosa, half a 
day’s ride from thence, on the Naples road, Louis’s 
mule cast a shoe. There was a decent inn at Pavosa, 
and thither went Marguerite while he sought a smith. 
She sat under the vine by its door, singing to herself, 
when suddenly the landlord came out all in a scare. 

“ Madonna Santissima ! ” he cried to her, and the 
few children playing about. “ Within, all ! Pres- 
tissimo ! I see from the roof a train of armed riders ! 
It is safer to make sure — Ai ! Ai ! ” 

Louis just then returned, and together they entered 
the cortile, round which opened the various rooms, 
and asked for rooms for the night. The man hastily 
pointed to two, and dashed to bar his gate, just as a 
great trampling sounded in the road. 

“ Ai ! Gli Ungeresi ! ” said the terrified host, as the 
gate threatened to give way under pounding of spear- 
butts. At a gruff command, however, and some 
reassurance, he opened it. 

Meanwhile, the brother and sister entered the sala, 
whence from the hole which did duty for window, 
they saw the dreaded Free Company of Hungary 
dismount from shaggy little horses and take from 
saddles their fur-trimmed provision-bags, to camp for 
the night, talking in guttural tones the while. 

Two hundred and fifty wild men they were, in half- 
eastern mail over fantastic garments, lean, active, 
and armed every one with lances pointed and keen, 
with the colours of Hungary on the leader’s pennon ; 
he was a mailed knight, tall as Louis, and mounted 
on a black horse, and he stalked into the cortile 
giving orders. The host ran in to take wine from a 
hutch. 


80 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


“ Who is it ? ” asked Louis, as he fetched the 
flasks. 

“ Santa Vergine send him safe away ! It is Corrado 
Lupo himself ! He rides to collect the Prince’s dues 
from his Duchy of Salerno. He is terribelissimo. 
Maria ! send him away ! ” He ran out with the 
wine. 

“ Conrad the Wolf ! ” said Louis ruefully. “ Let 
us retire to our rooms ; such as he are best avoided.” 

But they were too late. The famous condottiero 
strode in, one little Hunnish-looking squire bearing 
his shield, with its bloody-fanged wolf sable, another 
coming to unlace his mail. 

The kingdom held no dreader name than his, for 
he was perhaps the most ferocious of the many fierce 
leaders of mercenaries who infested it, and his savagery 
had earned him his name of Wolf in Italy and Hungary. 
Just now he and his band were serving Prince Andrea 
nominally, and their own pockets actually, and 
they were sworn men to King Ludwig when at home, 
though the Wolf was himself German-born. He was 
professedly collecting the Prince’s revenues of Salerno, 
and incidentally raiding the more distant villages, 
on his own account. 

“ This accounts for the few peasants we met to- 
day,” thought Louis. “ Fear of him must have 
cleared the country of them.” 

“ Who are these ? ” asked Conrad of the trembling 
host. 

“ Please, Illustrious One, they are singers ” 

“ They may stay,” said the Wolf briefly in fairish 
Italian. “ I like a song after a meal ! Bring hot 
meat ! Sharp ! ” 

The squires unlaced him, and he sat down, nodding 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 81 


casually to the pair, who would have left the room, 
but he checked them with a : 

“ Halt ! Heard you not that I would have a 
song ? Have a drink with me first to tune your 
voices ? ” 

The squires vanished to forage the kitchen, as he 
doffed his helm. 

He looked his name indeed, with his fierce, narrow 
eyes, deep-set under a low forehead fringed with 
short black hair, and his thin mouth curled omin- 
ously when he smiled, showing two long eye teeth 
like his animal namesake ; and his glance made 
Marguerite go strangely hot, and set Louis feeling 
instinctively for his dagger in his tunic’s folds. 

Yet the Wolf spoke quite pleasantly. 

“ Whence are ye, Sir of the Gaie Science ? A 
Provengal or Frenchman, by your dress ? ” 

“ My wife and I are French,” said Louis, without 
any title of respect. “ We fear our songs may not 
be fair exchange for your hospitality.” 

“ I will risk that,” said Conrad amiably enough. 
“ Hoch ! Here is supper ! Let us eat ! ” 

They ate of a fair meal, of roast kid, fowls, and 
excellent wine, and to Louis’s astonishment, Conrad 
talked of song and music in a surprisingly adept way 
the while. This relieved Marguerite of her first fears, 
and she answered his jests and questions cheerfully 
enough ; but Louis noted with growing anxiety that 
the Wolf rarely looked away from her, and after 
supper, while she sang, the expression on his fierce 
face confirmed his uneasiness. He began to look for 
an escape. 

Alack ! A glance through the window showed the 
ground covered already with sleeping Hungarians, 

G 


82 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


every man rolled in his great fur mantle, his horse 
picketed to his lance beside him, while the rest of 
the inn was doubtless so packed as well, by the snores 
and shields which clattered on stone floors, as the 
latest comers lay down. 

The night wore on, and desperately Louis realised 
a move must be made. 

“ We beg your permission to retire now, my lord,” 
he said, and rose ; but ere Conrad could reply, one 
of the squires entering handed him a letter. He read 
it, and gave the man a rapid order in Hungarian, 
some words of which Louis fortunately understood, 
as Messer Niccolo Accaijuolo had had a young Hun- 
garian secretary, who came to learn Italian and 
answer his Hungarian correspondence. From him 
he had learned enough to converse brokenly, and to 
gather now from Conrad’s order that the troop was 
to rouse itself and march somewhere or other there 
and then. 

The squire vanished, the Wolf rose and, with a 
courteous good-night, strode after him, leaving them 
staring at each other, in relief. 

“ Thank St. Anne ! ” said Louis. “ Now to bed, 
or, rather, you to yours ; for, my dear, I lie across your 
door this night, lest any of them remain here.” 

“ Come presently, then, when I am disrobed,” she 
said. 

She crossed the cortile full of arming, hurrying, 
sleepy men to her room, and began to unpack her 
baggage, which took her a few minutes, which she 
thought longer ; and so, when a tap came at the door, 
she expected her brother, and opened it an inch with : 
“Not yet, Louis ” — but 

It swung wider, and then closed again. A dark 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 83 


figure, mailed and cloaked, caught her, mute with 
fright, to him in a grip of steel. 

“ Aha, sweet jongleuresse ! ” said the Wolf’s voice. 
“ Didst think I had left so fair a bird to fly loose 
with such a crow as yond man o’ thine ? Room in 
my cage for thee, and we fly thither now ! ” kissing 
her fear-stiffened lips. 

“ O, Louis 1 ” she croaked rather than called. He, 
now listening without for her summons to rest, 
fairly shot in, and in a flash acted. 

Conrad was full-mailed save his helm, which hung 
from his arm by its leather laces, ready to don. 
Louis had no weapon but his sword and dagger, both 
too light against plate-strengthened chain ; but he 
had his wit, worth more than either. By the door 
lay a wooden stool, which instantly he snatched up. 

Marguerite, quick-witted as he, saw his arm rise, 
felt the Wolf’s grip loosen, and twisting her hands 
free clung with all her weight to his wrists. The 
stool crashed on his bare head, and he fell to the floor, 
dragging her with him as his senses left him. A 
groan was all the sound which escaped him. 

She struggled up and fell into Louis’s arms. 

“ Oh, caro ! We are lost. His men will slay us, 
certes ! Is he dead ? ” 

“ No ! His head is over tough — he breathes,” 
replied Louis, feeling the fallen man’s heart and wrist. 
Then he sharply shot the door bolt. 

“ If we declared our rank, would that not save us ? ” 
faltered she. 

“ No ! These condotti ever judge first and try 
afterwards ! They would hang the nameless j ongleurs 
to-night and crave Taranto’s royal pardon to-morrow. 
We must devise somewhat else now.” 


84 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


His cool air revived Marguerite’s courage, and she 
stooped and drew Conrad’s sword. 

44 I can help hold them back, too ! ” she flashed. 

But Louis was pondering. 

44 Ha, love ! A plan ! ” he said swiftly. “ I will 
don his gear, and we will pass out in the dark ” 

In two minutes he had unlaced the Wolf’s mail 
shirt, and she, wasting no words, obeyed his gestures 
and stripped off his black outer-hose and greaves, 
and then the brassarts and the rest. 

“ If we can gain our steeds, and the open, we can 
race for it,” said Louis, as she furiously-fast buckled 
him into the Wolf’s cuissarts and laced up the shirt 
again. In fifteen minutes from the beginning of the 
whole affair, Louis stood completely ready in the deep 
visored helm and long black cloak ! All had happened 
so silently that no sound had reached the cortile, for 
the noise there had covered Conrad’s thud on the 
floor. 

44 Fortunate that we are of a height,” said Louis. 
4 4 Hallo ! Here is his letter of orders in the cloak- 
pouch ! Latin, thank Heaven ! 4 Return at once to 

Castel Nuovo, to go on a mission of import. The pass- 
word is 44 Manfredo e Benevento.” — Andrea, Rex.’ 
Rex ! Pluto ! Gravest doings are forward if my 
once humble princely cousin signs himself 4 Rex.* 
But it saves us ! Why, Marguerite, I had but hoped 
to gain our steeds and ride for’t, but now we can play 
the rarest trick on earth ! With this password I can 
take the whole troop into Naples like Conrad himself ! 
Fortunately, he is a silent man. I noted he never 
spoke to the squire where a sign served. All favours 
us — dark night, orders already issued by him ! I need 
scarce speak, and as none know what passed in the 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 85 


sala at supper, they will think you one of the Wolfs 
usual — adventures. Do you go pay our score to the 
landlord ; he is too scared to question your going ; and 
get your mule.” 

He threw their baggage into its bags as he talked 
and they lifted the unconscious Wolf on to the bed, 
and bandaging his mouth lest he should recover ere 
they were away, covered him with the sheet so as to 
seem a sleeping traveller to any onlooker. 

Marguerite went out among the rapidly arming 
and mounting men, in the cortile, but none heeded the 
jongleuresse, and, reassured, she soon saddled the 
mule and paid the score. 

Louis’s coolness was infectious, and she resolutely 
put aside the thought of what awaited them if their 
trick was discovered by those terrible Huns, whose 
favourite sport was to bind their prisoners by each 
limb to four wild steeds and lash them into 
fury. 

Louis strode out boldly now, and found the troop 
ready mustered in the road. His squire came up. 

“ The reckoning for this Italian dog, boiar ? ” he 
said. 

Louis pulled out and threw at him the Wolf’s great 
leather purse. 

“ Pay him ! ” he growled, in a fair shot at Conrad’s 
tone. Luckily a visor’s depths (especially a deep 
German helm’s) muffle a voice excellently, and the 
man noted naught amiss. Louis had unbounded 
audacity, but also, what is ten times more valuable 
to the adventurer in a corner, caution in all things, 
and he never underrated a foe’s worth. Fortunately, 
Conrad was accompanied by no other officer that 
night, for his lieutenant-in-chief, Mikel Vardag, had 


86 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


found an adventure in Salerno which pleased him, 
and had stayed to follow it up, meaning to rejoin them 
next day ; and the under-man, a grim old file -leader, 
had, of course, stayed with the men, not in the sala. 
As Conrad had given the orders to march, none asked 
about waiting for Mikel, unquestioning obedience 
being practised in the Wolfs pack. 

Louis had no more to say, and he leapt into Conrad’s 
great steed’s saddle unhaltingly. Marguerite drew 
up her mule by him. For the squire’s benefit he 
leaned down, and chucked her under-chin with a 
“ Ready, sweetheart ? ” in broken Italian like Con- 
rad’s. 

“ Ay, lord,” turning up a cheerful face in the torch- 
light. 

The men saw unsurprised, as it was habit with both 
them and their leaders to find such amusements on 
the march, only the damsels were usually unwilling, 
and had to be thrown across-saddle Tartar fashion, 
and rent night’s veil by screams. 

“ Forward, all ! ” quoth Louis in Hungarian ; and 
the troop set off in the darkness towards Naples, its 
leader racking his brains to find a further plan of 
escape. He knew that the danger was over if he 
could reach Naples undiscovered thus, but once there 
it meant revealing his identity to the officer on watch 
at the gates, and proving it by the signet of Taranto 
which hung round his neck under his tunic, and there- 
fore the failure of his masquerade. He hated to have 
his plans baffled, and thought deeply. He had 
naturally no recollection of the road to Naples, 
but to his joy two scouts with lanterns on their lances 
rode ahead of the troop, and if he followed them all 
was well. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 87 


“ Gallop,” he said ; and they plunged forward ; but 
Conrad’s horse, discovering the difference in the rider, 
reared. But the horse was not foaled which could 
throw Louis of Taranto, and finding it could not un- 
seat him it bolted like the wind; then knew him master, 
and settled into a steady gallop, and the troop caught 
him up. They walked again, and he ordered the 
squire : “ Fall behind, away ! ” and Marguerite rode 
by her brother. 

“ All goes well so far ? ” she panted quickly. 
“ But I am yet fearful.” 

“ Courage, darling ! If we reach Naples, we are 
safe ; but even so, I do not wish to betray our names 
and jest. With luck we may pass into the Porta 
Capuana, then I will calmly tell the men to ride on 
to Castel Nuovo. They will think it is to leave you 
in some house I stop. Then we will dash for’t, and 
get lost in the city’s warren of lanes. A mad venture, 
but the only one. In some empty church sacristy 
we could change our clothes, and leave the mail, and 
to-morrow — no one of the troop will know the two 
jongleurs, as none save the squires have seen you 
unhooded or me close. Reach up and kiss my hand — 
they are watching us now.” 

The night was wearing, but they would reach the 
gates ere dawn. 

Already the sea was nearer, and the road ran along 
the shore after they passed Castellamare, and came 
to the long low shore that stretches between Naples 
and Pompeii, then still buried in the ashes of that last 
awful eruption of towering Vesuvius, whence even now 
rose faint smoke-puffs and the thin little line of 
fire just visible in the darkness. 

Already farms and villas were frequent along the 


88 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


way, and watch-dogs’ barks followed the train’s 
passing. 

They rode the last mile at a hand gallop, and just 
as the dusk began to fade from the east behind the 
masses of Vesuvius and Somna, the Capuana Gate, 
with its two heavy yellowish towers, loomed out 
of the dimness ahead. 

They drew rein under the parley-grate, and the guard 
promptly challenged : “ Chi va la ? ” Louis raised 
his shield, and the light of a powerful lamp shone on 
its painted wolf. 

“ Corrado Lupo. ‘ Manfredo e Benevento ’ ! ” he 
said, clearing his voice and coughing instantly to 
cover any difference. 

“ Bene ! Passate ! ” from the grille, and the port- 
cullis creaked aloft. And in rode the false Corrado 
and his men, clanking, yawning, and slackening 
wearied horses’ reins, no soul of them ever dreaming 
who sat in their leader’s saddle. 

The streets of Naples by night were no place for 
walks abroad, without such escort as they now 
possessed ; for a better picture than a modern scribe 
may give, the reader is referred to the Decameron, 
where is the Night- Adventure of Andreassio the 
Horse-dealer and many another bold roysterer. 
Watch-fires lit the Larghi, faint lamps the street 
corners, but off the main road between the Porta and 
Castel Nuovo was a perfect maze of narrow lanes and 
alleys, pitch-dark, and hinting at brawls andcul-de-sacs. 

Had Marguerite’s little figure not swayed wearily 
in saddle beside him, Louis would have enjoyed the 
fooling of his foes most keenly, and even so he laughed 
shortly in the helm’s depths. 

“ Hey, ma mie l ” he said to her very low, “ we 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 89 


shall not be stopped now. Come, courage ! Here is a 
good place ! ” 

To the left twisted darkly a narrow Vico, which a 
sign below a lamp named “ Vico Catania,” and what 
he judged a church cupola on the sky-line as its goal. 
He threw up his lance point and with military prompt- 
ness the hoof-clatter behind stopped. He slipped 
from steed and told the squire : “ Take the men on 
slowly. I follow in a moment.” 

One man halted there and held his horse and her 
mule, while he coolly unhooked her bale from its 
saddle, and putting an arm round her marched 
quickly down the dim Vico and went sharply round 
its turn, as the troop moved at a walk along the main 
road. Out of sight, they broke into a quick run, and 
dived into another alley-mouth, just seeing “ Vico 
Medina ” on the sign. Louis halted. “ We must 
find some shelter quickly now. Yond was not a 
church, after all. Some one comes — hush-sh.” He 
drew her into a darker wall-nook, for the dusk light- 
ened every moment now. 

A very high house with barred windows faced the 
Vico, and bolts grated as its narrow, iron-studded 
door opened and let forth a tall man, who walked 
rapidly along the way they had come ; by his lantern’s 
light they saw he wore red hose and shoes, but his 
cloak hid his face. 

From the doorstep gazed after him a tall woman, 
resplendent in a crimson and gold gown ; the light 
streaming from the lamp she held high showed her 
face, beautiful, resolute, and evidently fearless, since 
she stood thus long at an open door by night. Judging 
she would not scream needlessly, Louis stepped from 
covert. 


90 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


“ Madonna, has your house two doors ? Could 
you do a hunted couple the kindness to let them 
pass out by the other ? I will explain if we may 
come in.” 

She did not even start, but turned on him her 
magnificent black eyes in a smile, as though 
she found it the most ordinary thing to happen. 
Her thoughts of her own affairs were so blissful 
that nothing terrestrial could trouble her just 
then. 

His cloak held his shield, so she saw only a 
mailed knight of uncertain nationality and a hooded 
woman. 

“ Pass in if you are alone,” she said calmly still ; 
and in a moment she had barred the door behind them, 
hiding them from any pursuit as surely as if the earth 
had gaped upon them. 

She passed a hand over her eyes, and roused 
herself to ask : 44 Who are you ? who pursues 

you?” 

44 We are French jongleurs, madonna, who, at an 
inn, had the ill-luck to meet a famous condottiero, 
who fancied my wife here. Wherefore I was forced 
to tap him gently on the head to occupy his senses 
for a while. Whereby I dressed in his mail, and led 
his men some way, without their noting the exchange 
of leaders. With an excuse to leave them, we got 
away down these lanes. Now, strangers to Naples, 
we would ask our way of you to safe lodgings. There 
briefly is our story.” 

She laughed and eyed them approvingly. 

44 St. Stefan ! You did well there ! But you will 
be sought, if he is famous 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 91 


“ Not we, madonna. They none of them saw us 
in our jongleur guise. He told her how, and spying 
the shield from which the cloak had slipped, she 
suddenly clapped her hands. 

“ Aha ! ’Twas Conrad the Wolf, then ! ” she cried, 
exulting. “ How well you served the brute ! I am 
Tzigana born — of Hungary, yet not of Hungarians, 
and I loathe the Wolf’s pack even as you ! You are 
safe with me — I will help you hence after you have 
rested. You may trust me — by San Zorzio’s 
head ! ” 

She led them upstairs to a splendid room, yet there 
were no servants astir, and there was somehow an 
atmosphere of mystery both over her and the 
house. 

Seeing Marguerite curiously eye a silver coffer 
emblazoned with arms and coronet, she laughed. 

“You wonder my name ? I am the Comtesse de 
Garde by my — marriage — and yond was my husband 
you saw go forth. He will not return till night. 
Lie down on these couches and rest, pray you ! Here 
is wine and panneforte till the servants come to get 
you more.” 

She made to leave them, but Louis stopped 
her. 

“ We will only burden your goodness till daylight, 
madonna, and then if you will add to our debt of 
gratitude, pray give me a sack so that I may leave 
this armour in some public place where none may 
suffer suspicion when it is found.” 

“ Leave it in one of San Gennaro’s side-chapels — 
there none dare tax the priests. Meanwhile, I will 
guard your wife.” 


92 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


“ When more folks are abroad I will go and also 
seek lodging. Times are good for us of the Gaie 
Science, and we came hither for the Grand Court 
d’Amour of Capua. If no harm comes of to-night’s 
work, I will sing a canzone to your honour 
there.” 

Suddenly she clasped his wrist with quick alarm 
in the gesture. 

“ No, no ! Pray you not ! ” she cried urgently. 
“ And tell none you have been with me, nor my name. 
Some day — soon, I hope — I can explain wherefore ; 
but now silence is the only return I ask for the trifling 
service I may have done you by opening my door ! 
I do not question you, even when I read your story ; 
it is no concern of mine if a lord and lady choose to 
play the jongleur ! I shall keep your secret — keep 
mine ! ” 

Louis started, and then laughed. “ Are we so ill 
masked, then ? ” 

Marguerite, revived by the rest and wine, swag- 
gered across the room, thrumming her vielle. “ To 
drink goody ! ’Faith, I’d keep a snail before 
yond lad of yours ! ” she cried, in such good 
mimicry of a trudging jongleuresse that they both 
laughed. 

“ Do but keep that up, and your disguise is safe ! ” 
laughed the Comtesse, as she aided Louis to tie up the 
mail in a sack she had drawn from under a bale of 
silks left her by some merchant, to choose from, in a 
corner. 

Donning his own cloak which he had stuffed 
in Marguerite’s bundle in their hasty flight, he went 
forth into the Vico Medina, now a-bustle with early- 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 93 


rising housewives all bound Mercatowards, to fill 
their daily baskets, ere the sun grew too hot and drove 
them homewards to their noon siestas. His absence 
leaves space for some account of Marek, soi-disante 
Comtesse de Garde. 


CHAPTER VI 


“ Celui qui de tromper les homines se dispose 
Ne trompera pas Dieu dont l’oeil voit toute chose.” 

Nostradamus. 

Some while before had dwelt in Naples a strange 
girl. She was a Tzigana, a gypsy of Lithuania, of 
the wild steppe-roaming tribe of its plains, and had 
come to the south as plaything and pastime to Ottokar, 
Voivode of Lithuania. Her name was Marek — sur- 
name she had none, for her position of toy to a 
Giorgio lord, made her an outcast from her tribe. She 
was tall, yet so slender that it made her seem less, 
but when she stood by a tall man he would be amazed 
to find her eyes so near his own ; eyes large and darkly 
mysterious as a moorland tarn at dusk, and like her 
long hands and straight black hair, seeming made for 
the weaving of spells. 

The Voivode tired of her when they had been a 
short while in Naples, and took in her stead a noted 
Neapolitan beauty, but Marek, contrary to all the 
rules of fierce Hungarian passion, whereby she should 
have promptly knifed her deserter, heeded not at all 
his dismissal. She was lovely enough to have met 
better fate, but perhaps the Voivode feared her — per- 
haps he had the true Magyar’s repulsion for the wan- 
dering race which her intoxicating fairness had 
lulled at first — after all, his seasons are immaterial. 

94 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 95 


Dismiss her he did, however, and Marek went out 
calmly with the jewels and gold, his gifts, and took 
her a lodging in Vico Capuana. 

Had she not cast eyes upon Count Amaury le Rouge ? 

She loved him with all the passion of which a 
Tzigana is capable, and that is a measure beyond 
ordinary computation. 

Amaury, in a careless despondent hour, fell in with 
her at a supper party of Enrico Caracciolo’s. 

Her subtle, feline qualities attracted him, her 
hidden strengths (because they agreed so well with 
his own secret-ambitious side), and also, her face was 
the greatest possible contrast to Jehanne’s. 

Odd reasons, but then Amaury’s mind worked in 
strange ways ; still at first he had no thoughts beyond 
a mere dalliance. 

Months sped, and Marek took no other lover. 
Naturally the Voivode’s gold melted away, for even 
a lovely adventuress in a romantic age cannot live 
without house and board, and she sternly denied all 
other men, chaste with that absolute chastity of the 
Bohemian woman when she loves the great love of her 
life. 

When her last jewel was gone, her last hour in the 
lodging struck. She took her lute under her arm, 
drew an embroidered veil over her long braided hair 
after the manner of her people, and uncomplaining 
went out into the street again — to get her living as she 
might. 

Fate, however, span a queer thread just then. 

Count Amaury on his great roan charger clattered 
across the end of the Vico. He reined up. 

“ Domna nostra ! Whither go you robed thus, 
Pearl of the Danube ? ” 


96 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


It had come to her last card and she played it 
boldly. 

44 For a last day’s pleasuring, beau sire. To-day I 
shall sing and dance on the Largi, to-night I shall 
sleep sound in the blue waters yonder.” 

There was no note of regret or self-pity in her even, 
silken tone. Her eyes fixed on his, had a strange, 
radiant brightness, as of almost exaltation in her 
thought. She could not have taken him better, for 
he would scarce have pitied her had he thought her a 
self martyr ; as it was, she roused his passionate 
regret that so fair a thing should be lost — and lost 
she would be, for there was no mistaking her earnest- 
ness. 

His eyes met hers again — and in that instant he 
decided his way. 

He was once again in a despondent mood with 
Jehanne — the mood which has seen more falls 
begin than most others ; even fierce rages have not 
so much to answer for, as this “ laissez faire ” 
humour. 

Then too — she was but a toy — bah ! it was not worth 
halting over. 

He held out his hand and laughed his cheerful, 
vibrant laugh. 

“ Sleep sound you shall ! ” he said, as her long 
fingers closed round his. 44 But upon the waters, not 
below them. To-night I sail for Savoy — sail you 
with me ? ” 

She would have sailed with him to the world’s end, 
and unquestioning she mounted up, helped by his 
turning his foot outwards, for her to step up the tall 
roan’s side, and nestling in his arm rode to his house 
to stay till they started for the north. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 97 


They had a golden month at Amaury’s most inac- 
cessible fortress in the mountains south of St. Jean 
de Maurienne, “ La Garde Joyeuse,” and then dis- 
patches called him back to Naples. 

But as Naples neared a dread question arose in her 
mind. “ What if he now weary of me ? ” All the 
gossip she had heard previously of the young Queen’s 
open favour of her noble lord, came back now, and 
weighed upon her till she dared a bolder cast — an 
attempt to keep him in a stronger cage than the 
silken nets of love such as theirs. 

He gave her a gold bracelet set with fine sapphires. 
“ A pretty bond of memory with La Garde Joyeuse,” 
he said. 

She dropped on her knees, and her role of suppliant 
became her mightily in his nlasculine mind, so he 
answered very tenderly — 

“ Well, sweetheart ? ” 

“ Another gift, my soul ! A plain gold ring.” 

She had chosen her time well — he was in his softest 
mood, else his smile might have been an amazed 
frown, but he only raised her, and kissed her lips long 
and close. 

“ Why, if you still keep that wish I will do so later, 
ma belle. You would grace the coronet, and you 
shall hold the baton in the tourneys of Aix, right 
nobly. Only not now — there are reasons ” 

Which there certainly were. First his ambitions, 
crowned by his thrice daring thought of Jehanne, 
which would have outweighed the sacrifice of his 
soul had occasion offered ; secondly, he had no inten- 
tions of making a mere Tzigana, however fair, Countess 
of Savoy, though one must do him the justice to say 
that had it not been for Jehanne, he might have 

H 


98 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


thought more seriously of it, for Marek had become 
very pleasant to him by this. 

She served him as a relaxation from his irksome 
state duties, she made him feel his own greatness, 
she played upon his pity, his love for the weaker thing, 
and she did it all so well that he gave the smooth 
answer aforesaid, for he would not have lost her 
willingly then. 

Shrewdly he calculated that so doing gave him 
a double advantage, for it bound her to him, and time 
gained was everything in these matters. Sceptic 
as he was, he believed she would love him at most 
a few months — a year maybe — so far he thought 
he knew women of her passionate eastern type, 
and then she would quietly slide out of his life 
again. 

By that time what might have happened at Court ? 
If the Neapolitans were down-trodden much longer, 
what would Prince Andrea’s life be worth ? 

His lips set very close. He had no scruples over 
Marek — it was fair enough in his idea. The Voivode 
had left her, she in her turn would tire of him. 

So he replied easily, but she was not satisfied. 

“You palter Amaury — you put me off ! I want 
my rights now ! ” 

“You shall have them, never fear. But think you 
a moment. You are Tzigana born, which to the 
public eye seems as bad as Hungarian. If I appeared 
with a Hungarian wife, my aims would be suspected 
by all my Prove^al and Neapolitan friends, and my 
cause with the Court ruined — I should be lost to all 
fame, if I did so now. Are you mistrustful of my 
word ? ” 

His word ! Poor wretch, if she trusted to that ! 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 99 


4 4 But a priest at least ? ” she protested. 

44 A priest might blab — it would not be very safe, if 
my foes bribed him.” 

44 After all I rate but low, a Giorgio priest — let us 
have a Tzigana tier of the knot, I know one of my 
tribe, in Naples.” 

Amaury glad to get off so easily promised, and on 
arrival in the city of his dreams again, Marek found in 
one of its lanes an ancient druid-like priest of her 
people, and with many weird performances on his 
part gave her troth to the Red Count, and felt her 
soul more at rest. 

Amaury, however, minded his oaths, and the 
Tzigana priest’s blessing no more than if they had all 
been a conjurer’s muttered hocus-pocus. They did 
not bind him by any laws of France or Italy, but for 
the present Marek was tranquillised, come what might 
afterwards. 

He found her a secluded house in Vico Medina, 
whbre she dwelt happy in her hopes and in him, 
dubbed by him, and the few tradesfolk who served 
her the Comtesse de Garde, and no one questioned 
either it or her, for she had the unfathomable reserve 
of the true gypsy ; and she mixed not at all with her 
former acquaintances, nor walked the Largi at 
frequented hours, because of Amaury’s cunning 
argument that sight of her might damage him in the 
eyes of his Provengal friends. 

Of his enemies he sometimes told her, and that 
Prince Andrea was chief of them since he kept him from 
his full honours as first Count of the realm. She 
gathered that his aim was to depose the puppet 
Prince, and thus with his strong hand sway secretly 
Jehanne’s wrist on her sceptre ; and thus she did 


100 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


not doubt his relations with the Queen were of state 
only. 

“ Thus, eherie, thou would’st be ruler of us all,” he 
said to her. “ The Queen would rule Naples and the 
rest, I her, and thou me ! Hail Queen Marek ! ” 

And love-blind she believed him ! 

Meanwhile Louis of Taranto had passed along the 
narrow streets of tall grey and white houses, whose 
line was occasionally broken by marble-faced, iron 
and bronze-gated palazzi, till he climbed the steep 
rise whereon stands San Gennaro, the great Duomo 
of Naples, which faces west, and without is banded 
in black and white marble stripes. Louis quickly 
pushed back the swinging leather door-curtain, and 
entered its cool aisles, tall pillared, and many shrined. 

Half way up the nave on the left, just before the 
sacristy door is reached, is a convenient dark little 
chapel where a Byzantine Madonna smiled her serene 
eastern smile, and here he halted, and began to pray, 
waiting a chance to slip down the bundle of mail, 
unseen of stray passers by. 

Presently two men walked slowly from the great 
door to the sacristy, deep in speech, keeping step by 
step, waving hand for hand. One was very tall, 
hatchet faced, an Order on his breast, a splendid ring 
glittering as he waved his fingers. His biretta bore 
the knot of an Archbishop, for he was Naples’ 
notoriously pro-Hungarian prelate, Giovanni Orsini of 
that noble Roman House. His companion formed a 
sharp contrast, being a little roly-poly of a man with 
swollen purple cheeks which, moreover, he had a trick 
of shooting out as if they swelled with windy impor- 
tance ; he wore the plain robe of a cordelier friar, and 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 101 


yet there was that about his leering eyes, and fiercely 
sensuous mouth, that made Louis look twice at him 
as they passed. 

His words floated to him, clear in the great church’s 
hush. 

“ It must soon be ended, Monsignor ! I tell you 
they cannot hold out much more. Aha! Insolent 
Cleopatra though she be, we shall have her then ! ” 

Louis pricked up his ears, but could not catch 
Orsini’s answer, though he guessed they spoke of the 
Queen by the word “ Cleopatra ” ; but they turned 
back at the sacristy door, and walked the nave, so 
that he caught next this — 

“ Ludwig should get the letter in two weeks, and 
then in other two, we can act here.” 

“ Accursed Helen and her beastly crew will 
tremble then,” growled the friar, and they entered 
the sacristy. 

No one else was in sight, so Louis laid the bundle by 
the altar and strolled from the Duomo, his curiosity 
rampant. There was so much hate and emphasis in 
the two men’s bearing. 

He tossed a small coin to a lame beggar by the 
door. 

“ Who was that prelate with the friar anon ? ” 

“ Blessings, kind sir ! He was the noble Arch- 
bishop of Naples, and the friar Prince Andrea’s Monk, 
Robert.” He spat violently — the Neapolitan’s curse 
when he dares no more. 

Louis nodded, and went thoughtfully down the 
street, wondering what use to make of his discovery. 
Meanwhile he entered a hosier’s shop on Larga 
Correggie, and asked for embroidered shirts. 


102 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


There were two other customers, early as it was, to 
whom the buxom shop -wife paid much deference. 
One was a tall dark haired, languid lady in a very 
rich gold-embroidered deep-blue gown, with no 
mantle, but a large filmy lace shawl pinned to her 
jetty braids with golden pins, and a necklace of gold 
coin, and long eastern ear-rings. The other, a younger 
girl, had a round little face, and big brown eyes, but 
the small red mouth had a set which belied the childish 
ensemble, and did not fit with her alluring smile and 
dimples. She wore a heliotrope coif netted over with 
pearls, on her soft, short brown curls, and her gown 
of the same hue, with a silver girdle and many silver 
tags and tassels lacing the wide open sleeves and 
slashings. A quaint blue enamel pendant, heart 
shaped, and inset with a 44 J ” of brilliants hung round 
her neck, and the other lady had a similar red one 
with a 44 C.” They were matching hose by a pattern 
of silk, and as they argued the shade, the woman sold 
Louis some shirts and blue sendal hose. 

44 Good dame, know you of any garnished lodgings 
kept by honest folks ? I am a stranger here ” 

44 Now that can I ! ” said the woman cheerfully, 
with a Provencal accent. 44 My cousin’s wife at 
Castel Capuana is as worthy a body as you will find 
by raking Naples with a comb ! Her chambers are 
not dear either.” 

44 Castel Capuana ? ’Tis the chief prison, is’t not ? 
Look you I cannot afford to lodge with the governor, 
for I am but a jongleur ” 

She smiled at the cunning compliment. 44 Nay, 
Pons is but chief jailer, but as his lodging is large he 
takes guests betimes.” 

The younger lady listening, looked searchingly at 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 103 


Louis, and having a keen eye for a proper man, took 
the chance to strike in — 

44 Forgive my meddling, Dame Marthe, but an this 
gentle seeks rooms, an old widow servant of my 
father’s lives three doors down Vico Carbonara.” 

The dark beauty smiled languidly at him through a 
piece of clear crystal she carried, in a gold mount — an 
early ancestor of the quizzing-glass, and the supreme 
mode at Court. 

He bowed with a grace almost too finished in a 
jongleur. 

44 Many thanks, Madonna, I will ” Here came 

sudden interruption. 

A cat, teased into madness by some wretched 
urchins, dashed into the shop in a frenzy, and flew 
into the younger girl’s lap, spitting and clawing. Just 
as it tore a long strip of her gown, Louis had it by the 
neck, and with a bound doorwards, threw in into a 
fountain basin hard by, whence it splashed out, made 
sane by the chill. 

44 St. George ! How calmly you sat ! I nearly 
fainted, Mabrice ! ” shuddered the dark lady. 

44 What ! at a cat ? ” replied she, her lips curling 
slightly. 44 Yet you saved me nobly, messire — there 
is venom in a mad cat’s bite. My most profound 
thanks ! ” 

44 Pray say nought of such a trifle — would I had 
caught it quicker ! The privilege of so doing repays 
me,” he answered gallantly. 

She smiled on him very graciously. 44 Why not 
make me a cobla of it, Messire Trovere ? Again my 
thanks, and good-morrow. Good-morrow, Dame 
Marthe ! ” They strolled from the shop and along 
towards Castel Nuovo. 


104 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


The shop-wife tapped Louis’s arm. 

“ If you are wise, beau chanteur, make her the 
cobla ! ’Art a favoured man.” 

46 Why so ? ” indifferently paying her score. 

44 Why ? That is Madonna Mabrice di Pace, 
daughter to Signor Raimondo di Pace, Prince Andrea’s 
high chamberlain, and maid of honour to our blessed 
Queen Jehanne. She has her right ear in all things, 
I can tell you ! The other is Countess Ithamar of 
Argos, lady to Empress Catherine.” 

44 I guessed her Greek by her speech. I will see 
as to the cobla ; but send me now to your cousin’s. 
Their chambers will be more costly, I fear.” 

Castel Capuana, otherwise called La Vicaria, stands 
just inside the Porta Capuana, large, yellow and 
gloomy. Charles of Anjou used it as his residence 
while removing from Castel del Ovo to Castel Nuovo, 
whither he installed him as quickly as possible 
as Castel Capuana is right amid the mass of noisy 
dirty Vici, which are the city’s heart. 

Now its basement was used as the State prisons, 
but the upper floors were still luxuriously furnished 
to lodge any foreign visitor’s suites which could not 
be put up in Castel Nuovo. 

The boy sent by Dame Marthe led Louis to a small 
gate in the high wall at the Castel’ s back, and thumped 
thereon with a brick. 

Instantly it flew independently open, and a howling 
scullion hurtled out, and made no effort to rise from 
the kennel where he sat down, among mud and cab- 
bage stalks. The propelling power showed as a very 
large white-hosed leg, and huge soft fist shaken above 
it. 

“ Come in again, imp of Satan, and be put on the 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 105 

spit ! ” roared a female voice, loud yet not harsh of 
tone. 

“ She ever crows harder than she pecks 1 ” said the 
little boy to Louis. 

A large woman filled the doorway, with a flopping 
bouncing figure, and two large arms akimbo on ample 
sides, her sturdy feet planted wide apart under a bright 
blue jupon. Shrewd little pig’s eyes twinkled under 
jetty bands of hair topped by a smart red coif, and 
she grinned widely as she saw Louis, her thunderous 
brow clearing. 

“ Hey, Pierrot, mon coeur, who’s this pretty 
spark ? ” she asked the small boy. 

“ I seek lodgings, madame,” began Louis in French 
mixed with Provencal. 

“ Enter ! Here’s luck ! My other lodger left 
yest’re’en. A Frenchman, too, this time. No more 
rascally Tedeschi ! ” 

“ Donnerwetter ! Who miscall you, fairest ? ” 
growled a deep voice behind. 

One of her big hands lit with surprising speed on a 
man’s bearded cheek. 

“ You ! ” she said smartly. “ Out of my way, 
lourdaud ! Monsieur, this is another tenant, a 
scamp-at-arms, one Capitaine Barberoux — I forget 
his outlandish German name. Why he bides I know 
not, for Pons looks like a long liver ! Now stop 
chattering and come within.” 

No one had talked but herself, and the big German 
wagged a humorous red-haired jaw silently at Louis, 
as she led him within. 

There was an inner courtyard, with a vine trellis 
across one end, a fountain in the centre, green grass 
in the corners, and fig-trees trained up the yalls ; 


106 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


round the yard the rooms opened, but they seemed 
the dame’s own, for one was evidently the kitchen, 
with huge fire-place, where now in the heat burned 
only a small charcoal braiser. But up a short flight 
of steps with wooden ba 7 conies, looking on to the 
yard, were two others, both with clean red tiled 
floors, white-wood furniture and gaudy pictures of 
saints and impossible animals on the whitewashed 
walls. 

Jolly Dame Blancdine proudly pointed to them : 
“ A young artist of Florence painted them for his 
rent,” she said. “ Ah ! He was a merry lad ! He 
painted a fly in the Sieur des Baux’s glass, in the hall 
here, and ’twas so real that he flung the goblet at the 
servers’ heads when he could not fish it out ! Bright 
hues, are they not ? I count not paint wishy-washy 
pictures, I ! ” 

“ I like your rooms and price, dame. Tell your 
man I will be back with my wife in an hour,” said 
Louis as they went down again. 

“ My man ! Ho ! ho ! His will is mine — Pierrot, 
there are cakes on the table ! ” she told the boy. 
“ Hither, Pons ! I have a new tenant ! ” 

From a passage-way hopped a little thin, grey- 
haired man, with head inclined on one side, like a 
meditative sparrow. He carried many keys. 

64 Eh ? Why get you ever such cursed good- 
looking ones ? ” he chirped. 

“ What’s to you ? Get hence, jealous ape ! Were 
it not for me you would yet port wood in Mondragon 
market-place ! You only understand Government- 
lodgers ! ” 

He grinned, and went into the kitchen, and his 
redoubtable wife smiled at Louis. “ He is disobed- 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 107 


ient at times, but well spoken on the whole,” she said 
reflectively. 

“ I see who keeps Castel Capuana’s keys ! ” laughed 
he as she let him out into the street. 

“ Why, certes,” replied that person proudly smooth- 
ing her tablier. “ Might is right here, messire ! ” 

Louis went to fetch Marguerite. 


CHAPTER VII 

Giddy Enrico Caracciolo was possessed with an 
idea and thus : 

He stood in the tiltyard at Castel Nuovo, watching 
a friendly lance-bout between Pierre de Lascaris and 
Foulquet le Courtois, wherein the latter’s steed, swerv- 
ing on a weak fetlock caused his rider to catch de 
Lascaris’s lance full on the gorget, and topple promptly 
into the loose sand. 

Erminetta di Arcusa, Mabrice di Pace, Hypollyta 
Sanseverini, and a dozen other gay maidens and their 
gallants were also onlookers ; and when Pierre and 
Foulquet clasped hands and inquired for bruises, 
Erminetta tossed a disdainful head as the pair neared 
her. 

“ Light straws blow easily before their own Prov- 
en9al mistral ! ” she remarked, apparently to Enrico. 

Foulquet, courteous even then, answered only : “It 
is but natural that she who has never tasted defeat in 
her own fields of Charm and Fairness, should be unable 
to pity the vanquished.” 

Whereat Erminetta could think of no better reply 
than : “ I am sure I could joust better than a straw 
puppet myself ! ” 

Her petulant speech it was which inspired Enrico — 
and it promised to lower that proud damsel’s pride, 
he thought gleefully. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 109 


“ Ha, lords ! Madonna here is warlike ! Will no 
other fair one take up her glove and uphold the Comte 
du Bar’s honour ? In the stables neigh two dainty 
Andalusian mules new brought from Spain — there is 
a secluded lawn beyond the grove there ” 

With delighted cries the giddy band greeted his 
idea, and in a few minutes they had carried it out, and 
dragged off protesting Erminetta to the lawn with 
gleeful anticipation. It did not take long to trot the 
tw r o graceful white mules from stall, nor to fetch two 
small helms and breast plates from the armoury, with 
blunted lances and small tilt shields ; and once the 
group assembled on the smooth sward, Enrico, having 
snatched a beflagged trumpet as he came from the 
armoury, stood on a bench, and amid laughs, cheers, 
and japes proclaimed : 

“ Whereas the honour of Foulquet, Comte du Bar, 
having been impeached by the Lady Erminetta 
di Arcusa, he cries to the four quarters for a true 
lady to uphold his cause in the name of our true 
Sovereign Venus, and her Vice-reine Queen Jehanne 
of Naples ! ” 

But Erminetta determined to see the jest through, 
once her spirit aroused. “Wait till I go don a short 
jupon,” she cried gaily. “ Find a championess by my 
return ! ” 

“ I will lift the glove,” said Mabrice, stroking one 
pretty mule’s nose. She, too, ran within, and just 
here Jehanne came out of the Castel, and, strolling 
over the grass, learned what was a-foot from a dozen 
gay tongues. 

She was wearied out by a tiresome hour with 
Marzano, and a tableful of dry state papers, and she 
smiled at the diversion as Guy and Enrico dragged up 


110 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


a bench, and installed her thereon, with a great long- 
stemmed lily for a baton, and Ligorio Caracciolo in 
a trice twisted her a diadem of roses. 

Here Amaury, following her, saw what was going 
on, and very prudently went back to find the captain 
of the guard, whom he bade post a dozen sentries across 
the grove and lawn, and let none but the two girls 
pass. He did not wish a repetition of the monk’s 
spyings if thus he could prevent it. But Boccaccio 
meeting Mabrice, and seeing the nearest sentry stoop 
to tighten a spur-leather, took a run- jump and leap- 
frogged over him, with a yell of joy, as he joined the 
tourney-party on the lawn. 

The two girls came back, dressed in short jupons, 
and hose and high boots borrowed from the nearest 
men’s squires ; Erminetta in dark green, Mabrice in 
red with a gold scarf, delicately hinting at the du 
Bar colours. Quickly they were squired by eager 
young hands, buckled into plate and helms, and helped 
into the mule’s saddles, and with daintiest burlesque 
of the real tilt, led to the list-edges. Enrico turned 
to sound the Proclamation, and Laissez Allez, only 
to find the lovely Cecile des Baux had stolen his 
trumpet, and despite his snatches, skipped off blowing 
discordant toots, culminating in such a weird blast 
that Mabrice’s lively mount gave one bound and 
headed for the groves through a rose-bed. 

Bucking and jumping it was led back, Mabrice 
sticking on gamely, but shaking with laughter ; and 
by the time Jehanne could check her own mirth its 
fright had infected Erminetta’s. Both danced round 
on the lawn like two gambolling lambs, till it was only 
with the greatest difficulty that the two filters kept 
their saddles. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 111 


When the mules were stilled by two youths 
hanging on to the bridles of each, Jehanne waved 
the lily. 

“ Let us omit the trumpet ! ” she said. “ Valiant 
maids, do your duty. Laissez Allez ! ” and with the 
short heralding, the squires let go. 

The two mules, trained well enough to jog quietly 
in a procession or chase, did not understand being 
ridden furiously head-first at each other, and though 
they charged forward splendidly, just as their riders’ 
lowered lances would have met, they halted short like 
two wooden toys, their noses almost touching, their 
wilful fore-hoofs dug into the ground right firmly ; 
and, as if they had been two dolls worked by the same 
string, both girls shot over their heads and rolled at 
Jehanne’s feet. 

“ Hey ! We are not hurt ! ” they cried with one 
breath, as the field rushed to pick them up. “ Bring 
us fit steeds and I will fight the world ! ” shrilled 
Erminetta, her blood up. 

“ Ha, fairest ! ” from Foulquet gleefully now. 
“ Even straw puppets can teach you that the best 
steed may stumble ! ” 

Two Arab jennets belonging to Guy and Enrico 
were sent for, and the tilt went on. 

“ They handle their lances like clubs ! ” said 
Amaury, as they missed each clean at the first charge. 
“ Ha, better ! Mabrice has Erminetta on the bras- 
sart ! She reels — no ! — ho ! ho ! She hits Erminetta 
on the helm with the pole ! Lay on, fair kittens ! 
Tooth and claw ! Saw one ever the like ? ” 

The fun grew furious as the two girls, heating to 
work, missed with the points, and laid on with the 
poles. Erminetta’s steed, smarting from a thump on 


112 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


the quarters, grew unruly, and Jehanne threw down 
the lily. She sprang up, excitement wild in her 
eyes. 

“ Ye are a couple of washwives ! 99 she cried. 
“ Thumping one another like linen on stones ! I my- 
self challenge the world ! Find me a champion, and 
I will meet her ! Run, Guy, and bring me — not 
Eblis, he is too fiery — but grey Merlin, and bay Grana 
for the other.” 

She ran off, deer-like, swift towards the Castel, to 
don her gear. 

“ San Donato ! ” said Giovanni Boccaccio to the 
group. “ What will hap if this joust is blown abroad ? 
Who is going to raise her glove ? ” 

“ I ! ” said Erminetta. “ I will not use shaft if 
she wills point — I grew too heated.” 

In a very short time Jehanne came back, followed 
by Guy and the horses, accepted Erminetta’s challenge 
and the sport began anew. 

Amaury watched with keen delight as she vaulted 
into saddle agile as any boy, and took the gay lance 
from Guy. Could any but she ride thus in this 
scrambling joust, and keep their dignity so ? The 
others had seemed just what they were, awkward 
girls clad as boys thwacking each other with poles, 
but in Jehanne one saw Brunhilde the Valkyria — 
Galahad the Maiden Knight. 

At the first rush she caught Erminetta’s shield fair 
and square, but the latter’s lance striking the shoulder 
joint of Jehanne’s brassart, they both sat firm in 
saddle, and drew apart again, equal still. 

Suddenly, as Jehanne waited by Guy her squire, 
there came shouts from afar near Bibirella Tower — 
shouts and running men. Then towards the gay 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 113 


tourney party charged a dark mass of shaggy hair — 
a fierce Calabrian wolf escaped from the dens, hunger- 
mad, and eager for battle. 

Straight as an arrow it rushed on. Erminetta on 
her steed was nearest in its path, and with one spring 
it was upon the horse’s haunches, biting deep, and 
hanging on like a burr. She, unarmed save for her 
lance, could neither control the steed nor slip off, but 
ere any of the men present could draw swords or 
come near the kicking frantic beast, Jehanne had 
snatched a sharpened lance from Guy (which by 
great good luck he had brought in mistake with the 
blunted ones) and charged straight at the wolf. Like 
any boar spearer she got her weapon in the shoulder, 
and as the beast fell off the steed, she pinned it to 
the ground. 

Then only did she cry clearly 46 Aide ! aide ! Anjou ! ” 
as if she had been in a charge. By then a dozen 
blades were buried in the wolf’s body, and Erminetta 
was lifted from saddle by as many eager hands. 

“ Eh Domeniddio ! ” cried Boccaccio, 44 1 shall sing 
of you no more as Light, but as Lightning of the 
World ! ” 

But Jehanne laughed aloud, for the Head Keeper, 
poor wretch, afraid for his life at such ill-keeping 
of charge, threw himself face downwards on the 
sward before her, crawling as a dog, imploring mercy, 
while he might, of the Queen herself. His terror was 
comical, and she pitied him. 

44 You have given us rare sport this time, good 
knave — but keep the bars better henceforth. So, I 
pardon thee ! ” she said. 

The hubbub of exclamations and cheers had a new 
stimulus, for Erminetta here took the occasion to 

i 


114 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


faint, and in the fuss of bearing her to her rooms in 
the Castel, the tourney ended. 

Jehanne, walking in the rear towards the house, 
found Amaury at her elbow. 

“ Ho Majesty ! Who feared how she would front 
her foes ? O Zenobia of Naples, fear nothing ! I 
would all the city could have seen your deed — they 
would follow you to hell, after such valiance ! ” he 
said in a tone, low yet singing with exultation. She 
smiled very graciously in his eager face. 

“You mistake — ’twas quite a joy to charge an 
open earthly foe : I have plenty of mortal courage, 
but the strength to face weary care, oppression, dis- 
grace — that is what I lack.” 

“ Whether you lack it or not, Naples trusts in you 
— as do I ! ” very low. The glamour his martial 
spirit held for her spoke in his favour, and she answered 
his look with one which fanned the flame no little ; 
then as she looked up she beheld Andrea and the 
friar reading together at a window in his tower. 
Whimsical smiles wreathed her lips. 

“ There sits one pair of readers ! ” she said gaily. 
“ Go get a book, and read to me, i’ the Long Sala. 
I, too, must have a schoolmaster.” 

And in the sunny day Queen Jehanne sat cheerfully 
listening to the Red Count’s skilful reading for an 
hour and more. 


CHAPTER VIII 

Count Amaury’s Neapolitan residence was but a 
narrow house on Larga Carbonara, manned with a 
meagre staff (as lordly trains then went) of fifteen 
picked men, all Savoyards, as loyal as any vassals 
could be, but the Red Count disdained the jests of 
his giddy friends such as Enrico, and laughed at their 
inquiries as to if he had swept his own room out, or 
bedded his horses of an evening. He had a round 
score of houses, beginning with the magnificent 
Palace of Aix, and ending with a hunting chalet in 
the Alpes Maritimes ; but in Naples he held too large 
a household folly, as well he might, seeing that rarely 
a month passed without some notable being poisoned 
or knifed by some retainer. So both he and Bertrand 
des Baux were partial to eating at home oftener than 
at Castel Nuovo, and mocked all critics lightly. 

One night a week after Louis di Taranto’s arrival 
in Naples, any one standing on the opposite height 
of San Giovanni Carbonara’s ehurch-steps, might have 
looked into the Count of Savoy’s second-floor windows, 
and beheld him sitting fanning himself with a palm- 
leaf, for the heat was appalling even for a Neapolitan 
August. 

He wore a thin red silk robe, his feet thrust into 
open sandals, and his long chestnut hair was tied 
back from his neck by a riband, which rather feminine 

I 2 IIS 


116 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


effect was more than neutralized by manly visage and 
bare muscular arms. 

His body-servant Pierrot, a grim, wizened old 
fellow from Embrun des Alpes, announced the Sieur 
Bertrand des Baux. 

The Grand Justicer’s usually impassive face was 
agitated his hair awry. 

44 What news ? ” asked Amaury, as Pierrot vanished. 

Bertrand, as if the heat stifled him, tore off his 
bliaut of green silk and turned up his white muslin 
shirt sleeves. Then he swore with an earnestness 
which made his lounging host sit up and prop elbows 
on table to listen. 

“ Just as I lay down for my siesta after noon, Guy 
de Montleon came to me with a fine tale ! I always 
thought him no fool, silly as he seems at times. He 
was asleep behind a thick bush in the Castel gardens, 
when Nicholas of Transylvania, the Ban of Croatia 
and Giovanni Orsini came and sat on the bench in 
front of it. Guy woke, and heard, for luckily they 
spoke Italian for Orsini’s sake, thus : 

44 4 You think it likely then ? 5 from Orsini. 

“ ‘ Yes,’ quoth Nicholas. 4 1 had a private letter 
on the same day as the Queen’s, and King Ludwig 
assures me he will not halt in the matter.’ 

“ Then the Ban took up the tale : 4 Wherein he 
saith that directly he gets her refusal as to the coron- 
ation, he will follow up his threat. The Pope also 
will not refuse his demands, and he will send a Legate 
to be ready for it. I will stake half my lands that one 
is even now at Pisa ! ’ 

What then ? Will Ludwig come hither him- 
self ? ’ asked Orsini. 

44 4 He will leave post haste, with eight thousand 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 117 


men and as many more to follow as needful, and 
march straight hither. He means no more parleying 
folly,’ says the Ban. 4 He was so sure the Queen 
would refuse his demands that he was planning the 
campaign even as he wrote. Oh, he makes no mis- 
takes, our Ludwig ! Thus is he great.’ 

44 Then spoke Nicholas : 4 But there were rumours 
that Zara on the Dalmatian coast was in rebellion. 
If so, Ludwig will go himself to subdue it — probable, 
since he would be some days’ ride nearer Naples than 
Buda. We may have the ultimate cartel here any 
day now — the Pope’s heart can never hold out about 
his share in’t ! ’ 

44 4 Who could ? A hundred thousand fiorini of 
good Magyar gold ! ’ chuckled Orsini, and Nicholas 
went on : 

44 4 Not our holy Clement, certes ! We shall have 
that mandate here in another ten days ! Aya ! I am 
to be Grand Seneschal of Naples then ! I must seek 
for another mansion ! How would yon insolent 
Caracciolo’s palazzo serve ? ’ They all laughed to- 
gether, and walked away. Guy, certes, lost no time 
in seeking me. The lad was half crazed with rage — 
even as I am. — Ciel ! Our time is as short as a cheap 
mass ! ” He sprang up and paced the room. 

44 St. Trophime of Arles ! ” cried Amaury, choking 
with excitement. 44 Hell ! The Pope bribed, the 
kingdom to be seized ! I can scarce grasp it all ! Eh, 
Bertrand ! We are in a nice pass now ! Lucifer ! 
That is why the infernal Andrea grinned so, when the 
latter was read — why he vapoured and threatened 
us ! Oh, but we should have been well tricked had 
we not found out ! Now — Pardie ! — something must 
be done — and quickly ! Let me think.” He flung 


118 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


himself on an eastern divan, and leaned from the 
lattice as if for cooler air. Bertrand stopped his 
pacing and sat down near. 

The crushing revelation had set them as near panic 
as two such men could ever be. Rage and hatred 
blazed sky-high with both. 

From Amaury ’s wild wheel of thought came a 
bright spark — Jehanne ! 

44 We must act ! ” said Bertrand in a perfect growl. 
“ But we have no time — yet we must think it well 
out. We alone know — for Guy is dumb.” 

44 He may be useful now,” said Amaury, hearing 
his own words dimly. Then his full reason rallied, 
and he clenched his fist savagely. 

44 Accursed Huns ! But we’ll set them a-swing yet ! ” 
His low tone would have been a fierce shout had he 
not remembered that every wall had ears. 44 Yet — 
no use to curse either ! We must act ! ” 

Bertrand leaned across the table, his straight black 
brows met in a frown, but his mouth open in an odd 
half grin. 

“ Princes often die — of fevers,” he said. Something 
in his cool suggestion made Amaury, unscrupulous 
as he was, start. 

“ Yes — yes,” he assented. “ But there are a lot 
of damned physicians among us nowadays, who seek 
causes very closely — so do the tasters. Think of 
somewhat better, man ! ’Tis an ugly idea.” 

44 A challenge to a duel ? ” 

Amaury laughed in contempt. 44 Bah ! He would 
not fight with straws ! And ’twould be awkward 
enow, for whoever did it — sheer murder with a weak 
fool, like him ! ” 

Bertrand’s grin widened horribly. 44 Bene ! But 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 119 


what else, pray, are we — ah — suggesting ? ” he 
asked. 

“ It seems to me,” said Amaury very slowly, 
“ that this affair needs different treatment from the 
average — suggestion. The more folk mixed up in’t, 
the better for us, at the inquiry. There ever is an 
inquiry. Blame the minors — and save the chiefs ! ” 
Bertrand nodded. 

“In an ordinary case a large circle would 
betray us,” pursued Savoy. “ But here the object 
is so well hated that all we shall admit will help as in 
a Crusade. Top of our list comes the Empress ” 

“ Next my cousin Raimond, and Hughes,” cut in 
des Baux. 

“ Geoff ory Marzano, Roger Sanseverino, the Monto- 
lieu brothers, the two Caraccioli, Pierre de Lascaris, 
the two Artois, Charles and Beltramo, Cabano 
Filippa — who will bring Sancia, whose lover is the 
Count of Terlice — an old villain but a useful. Even 
with these we can do’t ! ” 

“ I am dim on the plan itself. Why not give out 
Andrea is mad and clap him in a lone fort some- 
where ? ” 

“ Mad ! ” scornfully. “ Why, how would Nicholas, 
Croatia, and crafty Friar Robert contradict us ? No ! 
Such as he are best safe ! ” 

He was cool and decided now as a dealer of cards, 
and his hands were as steady as he played with a pen 
on the table. 

Bertrand eyed him very keenly and took his risk. 
He leaned over and said in his ear — 

“ I know why ! ” 

“ Mordie ! Why ? ” catching his hand in a trap- 
firm clutch. 


120 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


“ Because of Her,” said Bertrand, every word 
weighty as lead. 

He was the boldest man in Naples, but as he met 
his friend’s eyes he started and crossed himself of 
sheer habit. To call their blaze fury is but weak 
phrasing — it was the uncontrolled rage of a man 
suddenly touched upon the raw of his life’s most dear 
and fiercest desire. 

The Grand Justicer shuddered like one of his own 
prisoner- victims. 

“ I shall not lie to you now ! ” said Amaury 
between his teeth. “For if cl thought you would 
betray this, I would kill you straight ; but you will not 
because you dare not ! You rise or fall with me ! So 
be it ! Now you have guessed my end. Eh, why 
not ? Is there any other but me in the field ? No. 
And if there were, I would kill him too ! ” 

“ Be easy. You know I am safe. St. Honorat ! 
Why should I betray you — my oldest friend ? Stop 
glaring at me, Amaury ! Is She to know aught ? ” 

“ No ! Decidedly no ! She would never consent. 
Bertrand, she thinks my devotion disinterested. We 
are but on the threshold of love — she thinks ! Judge 
if my way is wary — time enough after. Enough ! 
Think you young Guy will stand firm in the coming 
hurly.” 

“ Leave him to me,” said Bertrand with another 
grin. “ He aspires, so far hopelessly, to my pretty 
niece, Hugues’s youngest, Cecile Passe-Rose. If I 
promise her to him, he would descend gleefully to 
the inferno ! All the De Montleons are thus — hot 
fighters or lovers — risk-alls for their desires. Oh, we 
have Guy there 1 ” snapping finger and thumb to- 
gether. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 121 


Amaury mused awhile ere he spoke, and then 
rapidly went on thus : 44 To-morrow night by good fate 
is the masque for Duchess Agnes’s birthday. I will 
warn Marzano, and do you tell the Empress to tell all 
those I have named to meet us secretly during the ball, 
below the terrace at eleven. In our masks it is the 
easier. Folly to plot within walls when the sea is 
open to us. We will have a felucca there by the 
gardens, and as the Montolieus of Marseilles, De 
Lascaris and Marzano are coast-bred all, we will sail it 
ourselves, so that none but our circle are aboard to 
betray it. A few hund d yards from shore, and we 
are safe. Thus we will hold our every conference 
on it.” 

44 Can we all get aboard ? ” 

“ Leave out the Caraccioli and Terlice then, and 
Sancia. They can be told after.” 

44 Will Marzano agree to — violence ? A con- 
scientious old dog ” 

4 4 He can be persuaded ’tis for the kingdom’s good. 
Every man has a soft spot. Pitch on that and rub 
hard — so you may do any thing ! Sound advice.” 

44 Amaury,” said Bertrand falteringly, 44 when 
thou’rt King ” 

“ Sh — too soon ! When it is over we can talk on’t. 
But be sure I will reward openly.” 

Bertrand scowled heavily. 44 No harm talking ! 
I covet my cousin Hugues’ office.” 

Amaury whistled low. 44 Whew ! Seneschal of 
Provence ! Ciel, you fly very high, Bertrand.” 

44 What of you ? ” very tersely. 

Amaury’s brow cleared, and he took his con- 
federate’s hand in friendly grip. 

44 Right ! Agreed ! I will make Hugues a Prince 


122 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


of Naples instead ; he might have the Duchy of 
Salerno — time enow to settle that.” 

But Bertrand with much innate Provengal guile hid 
the higher aim he had, till his hour was ripe. 

“ No more can be done till we have all met to- 
morrow. Thus good-night ! I am going as a Druid 
priest to the masque.” 

“ And I as a Roman senator. The Queen goes as 
Diana, and I am her devotee. Mabrice told me her 
dress.” 

“ Eh ! It fits oddly with to-night’s news ! ” 
chuckled Bertrand. “ A Roman senator slew Julius 
Caesar ! Good-night, my Brutus ! ” 

And Des Baux left the Lord of Savoy to his am- 
bitious dreams. 

Next night in Castel Nuovo Queen Jehanne stood 
before her long mirror, which was turned to a sheet 
of light by its brilliant side lamps and many thick 
candles above and on the walls, and surveyed her 
glorious image with critical satisfaction. She was 
robed as Diana, but not as the short-skirted Huntress ; 
as silver-crowned Selene the imperial Moon, and the 
long filmy Greek gown was caught up below the heart 
by cross-bands of silver stars. Her splendid hair 
was twisted in a Greek knot behind, but it was so 
long and thick that Filippa had been obliged to take 
a great tress round her head which formed a golden 
frame for the diadem of a large silver crescent which 
crowned her brow. A silver tissue veil flowed from 
the crescent’s horns over her shoulders behind. 

She had followed Greek ideals entirely, so that her 
lovely arms were bare to the shoulders, of which the 
right was left undraped, and her slim feet had no 
other covering than the silver sandal straps. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 123 


A thin chain of great diamonds round her throat 
was her only other jewelry. 

As Filippa handed her a silver pin to adjust the 
coronet, a knock came at the outer room’s door, and 
Mabrice opened to Boccaccio. 

“ Enter ! ” called Jehanne, hearing the voice. “ I 
am ready, ’Ser Nino ! Behold your work 1 ” 

He had sketched her the whole costume from a 
statue of the goddess he had seen in Rome, and they 
had disputed the head-gear together ; so he came 
anxiously to see it. He was disguised as Homer, and 
held a tortoise-shell lyre in one brown hand, and as he 
entered promptly fell on one knee in merry adoration. 

“ Hail, Immortal ! Helen shall fly from Troy in 
utter jealousy ! ’Tis perfect, most perfect — yet — 
yea, that right-side curl falls too far forward over your 
pink ear’s shell. A pin, Sancia ! ” 

“ Where ? ” cried Jehanne, twisting about before 
the glass. “ I cannot see — pray alter it, ’Ser Nino ! ” 
The artist in matters classical lifted the rebel curl 
flowing from the knot behind, but even as his nimble 
fingers arranged it hasty steps sounded in the ante- 
room, and without ceremony Prince Andrea and 
Friar Robert entered. The group by the mirror stood 
stiff as so many puppets, and Jehanne’s lips parted 
in blank amazement. 

The vision of delight she made would have dis- 
armed any but them, yet the Prince was obviously in 
evil mood. She wondered if he were sober. 

“ What means this ? ” he blustered. “ Did I not 
desire you to check this vain mumming ? You cannot 

be seen in this shameless gear ” 

Hi s voice melted her amazement ; Boccaccio noted 
that her lips set firmly and she half closed her eyes ere 


124 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 

she answered — a trick she had when strongly moved, 
either by wrath or joy. 

“ What is amiss with it ? ” 

“ Amiss ? Oh, modesty ! Your shoulders — your 
bosom — your feet ” 

Then his gaze fell on Giovanni. “ Ha, mounte- 
bank ! How dare you be in our Consort’s chamber ? 
Hence ! ” 

“ How dare you enter it, either — unasked ? ” 
flashed Jehanne violently, more spurred by the insult 
to her friend than to herself. “ Our Consort ! 
But I am my Consort’s Sovereign ! Ask my pardon 
and then depart — or I call the guard ! ” 

Friar Robert and his pupil looked as though a 
bombard had suddenly exploded before them. Here 
was change with a vengeance. The Queen’s calm 
dignity was bad enough, but this raging regality was 
worse. 

Andrea weakened visibly. 

“ You cannot go to this folly robed so,” he grumbled. 

Calmly she thrust another pin through the coronet 
and draped the veil. 

“ Wherefore not ? My gown is at least clean and 
decent ” — waving a finger at him. Upon his bliaut 
breast was a large wine stain, and on his sleeve grease 
of gravy. Not for naught had de Lascaris called 
him Prince Sloven. He swore, but Jehanne only 
took a great ostrich fan from Filippa and prepared 
to quit the room. Andrea flung himself before the 
door. 

“ You must don another robe ! ” he vapoured. 

Jehanne’s brows drew together, and — before she 
could act came interruption. The inwards-opening 
door threw the Prince forward with an undignified 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 125 

little run, and only the friar’s ready clasp saved him 
from a tumble. 

Empress Catherine, gorgeous beyond conception as 
the Queen of Sheba, a walking mass of gold-cloth, 
jewels, peacocks’ feathers on head and in fan, flutter- 
ing with gold tissue veils, sailed in and made playful 
reverence to the angry Goddess. 

“ Get your mask, dearest ! ” she cried, ignoring 
Andrea entirely. “ The music begins. Am I not 
well disguised ? Ah — yes, pull your veil so as to 
hide your hair a little more. So you may pass for 
Marie ” 

“ I forbid this madness ! ” growled Andrea, non- 
plussed, his brief dash of courage smouldering out 
before the imperial reinforcement. 

“ What ? The masque ? Pity you kept silence 
till it was astir ! ” said the Empress, coolly fixing him 
with her crystal spy-glass. 

“ I knew there was to be one such folly, but I told 

Jehanne not to go thereto ” The friar grinned, 

and Catherine felt a most urgent desire to give him a 
sound rap on the head with her long fan hilt, but of 
course suppressed this unroyal longing. 

Jehanne put on her silver tissue half-mask, with its. 
fall of delicate silver lace, and turned to go. Her 
silent contempt fired Andrea again, and perhaps it 
was the extra irritation of addressing a masked person 
which made him lose caution and spurt : 

“ Make the most on’t ! Eh ! It may be your 
last ” 

Quick as a juggler the friar clapped a silencing 
hand on his royal dupe’s mouth, and twisted him 
outside the door, leaving the aunt and niece gazing 
wonder-stricken at each other ; and discreet Giovanni 


126 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


slipped after the others, seeing the trembling of 
Jehanne’s hand. 

Catherine kissed her, as she sank a moment on an 
ivory chair. “ O, the wretch ! Courage, cherie ! 
Heed him not ! What said he erst ? ” 

Jehanne explained. “ Aunt, what can I do ? ” 
she ended. 44 If this is beginning of his authority as 
my husband, where is end thereof ? I threatened — 
yet after the Council of late, what would hap an I did ? 
Open riot. Yet I would have done it had you not 
come. I will not brook his insults ! ” 

44 Do we of Anjou ever need, long ? ” asked 
Catherine significantly. 44 What meant he about 4 last 
times ’ ? It may very well be his ! Now no more ! 
Come down. I hear the trumpets ! Giovanni is 
without in the corridor.” 

Jehanne went out, but Catherine, lingering to 
untangle a heel from her train in the anteroom, 
whispered to Filippa and Sancia (Mabrice having 
followed Jehanne) : 44 Come with me to meet the 
Count of Savoy by the terrace at eleven ! in your 
masks, and answer no one who does not answer 
4 Venezia,’ when you challenge them with 4 Pavia ! 5 ” 
and they nodded understandingly. 

The scene in the Baron’s Hall was gorgeous beyond 
description, ablaze with lights, colours, and jewels, 
a-thrill with music and laughter, as the dances sped. 

The masque opened with Duchess Agnes, a silver 
tissue domino completely hiding her splendid dress of 
an Etruscan queen, standing on the dais and pelting 
the crowd with roses, which were to be exchanged at 
midnight for valuable gifts by the lucky catchers. 

Then with a single trumpet-blast, a splendid herald 
in rose and gold tabard parted the throng, by waved 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 127 


hand, and twelve graceful boys and girls in golden 
dresses danced in, symbolic of the Months of the 
Duchess’s coming year. They were followed by 
twenty-four smaller Hours, children in pale rose hue, 
garlanded with roses. After a graceful dance before 
her, they laid at her feet caskets containing her 
friends’ birthday gifts, and retired amid storms of 
applause. 

In the confusion of the next dance Jehanne stood 
in the reception chamber, near one of its long windows 
giving on to the terrace, when a Roman in ivory 
silk toga and golden head fillet accosted her. 

“ Ave Diana ! ” 

44 Ah, Count Amaury ! But I am wearied of 
dancing — walk we a little.” Enchanted at this, he 
ventured more. 

44 Upon the terrace, an you please, Majesty ? ” 
She took his arm, and silently they passed out. 

She was still simmering with her pent rage at 
Andrea’s conduct, and of a mind for confidences. 
In ten minutes Amaury had drawn the story from her, 
and pressed her hand for sympathy — unresented. 

44 I could have struck him ! ” she ended hotly. 

Amaury laughed very low. 44 Courage ! It is 
darkest just ere dawn.” 

She pulled him up impetuously beneath the lamp 
at the terrace end, and deftly drew off his mask. It 
was a childish action, but served her turn. 

“ Why do you all say 4 Courage ’ thus ? The 
Empress said it anon. It means deeper. Out with 
it, comrade ! What is i’ the wind ? ” 

Amaury took her other hand and looked close into 
her eyes. 

44 You think rightly, but you must trust me without 


128 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


asking more just now. I am under vow to silence as 
yet. In good time you shall be freed. Trust me, 
my Queen.” 

“ Freed ? ” she flashed, letting go his hands. 

“ Steady. Marzano hath a long head. Enough, 
dearest friend. It is safest to speak no more of it.” 

Ere replacing his mask he sought her with a look, 
long and with the least shade of deeper tenderness 
therein. In the lamps’ soft light, the Red Count was 
a very gallant figure, a strong man in his strength, 
and her mood was yielding. For the moment she 
wondered how it would be to have his arms about her, 
sure shield from any foe — and then a trifle shamed 
she was glad the mask hid her blush. 

As quickly her longing for gaiety, for relief of* her 
thoughts of Andrea, came back, and she held out 
her arms to him as the music, clearly audible through 
the open windows, began a fresh dance. 

“ Dance we down the terrace — there is no crowd, 
and we hear well ! ” she said. 

He clasped her, and they whirled away together, 
separating and holding hands apart, as the lavolta- 
steps bid them the shortest spaces possible. 

Neither spoke, yet each understood the magic of 
night and scene which was drawing them closer, 
and at the last round steps together, she leaned upon 
him, and he held her nearer than ever he had dared 
before — and she said nothing. 

“ If I stay here longer, she will break my caution,” 
thought he silently ; then, as if she had read his 
thought, she paused by the nearest window. 

“ I promised Giovanni the next pavane,” she said 
and they went in. 

Light was dawning upon the Red Count’s feeling, 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 129 


yet at the glimmer she was still uncertain, and, if 
anything, glad. Temptation to bind a man to her 
even by friendship which might drift deeper, was very 
strong for one so alone and weary as she ; and if 
opportunity makes thieves, how much more lovers ? 

Amaury surrendered her happily to Boccaccio and 
went off thrilling inwardly to his fateful meeting at 
eleven, when by ones and twos, a fantastic little band 
came cautiously after him to the garden molo, where 
lay ready in the lapping waves a large felucca. 

Swiftly they put off into the indigo night. 


CHAPTER IX 


(< Si prisonier ne diet poiut sa raison 

Sans nn grand trouble e douloureux soupson 
Pour son confort qu’il s’y fasse une chanson ! ” 

Sirvente of Richard Coeur-de-TJon. 

The Princess Marguerite of Taranto, in her guise 
of Rita, wife to Messer Vivien de Chartres, a jongleur- 
esse, sat in the courtyard of Castel Capuana on the 
edge of the fountain, and sang gaily to her vielle, 
in the absence of her supposed husband at the barber’s. 

She sat in the warm sunlight and watched the white 
doves wheel and alight to drink the clear waters. 
She had a heart as light as any white flutterer of them 
all, rejoicing in her freedom and the frolic of acting 
her role. They had told the worthy Dame that they 
came from a village outside Chartres, and (to account 
for Marguerite’s occasional lapses into too high 
gentility) that she was an orphan of good family 
with whom Louis, the gay trovere, had eloped from her 
convent school, at the age of fifteen ; and her curiosity 
thus satisfied, the good woman questioned no further. 

There was much coming and going in the courtyard : 
soldiers with orders, scullions, lower jailors with keys 
and food-trays for the prisoners, workmen with tools, 
two bright-robed contadini with Dame Blancdine’s 
utter and eggs, one with a little brown baby strapped 
on her ample back, in Vesuvian fashion — even 
130 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 131 


a priest came by, hastily fetched to some dying 
unfortunate. Then, in sharp contrast to these came 
a smart esquire in a strawberry hued suit, from the 
Governor, to tell Pons to report a certain prisoner’s 
behaviour. All these Dame Blancdine interviewed 
quite as much as her husband ; indeed, she had not 
a few keys in her wide apron pockets, for her boast 
to Louis was no idle one. She sat now by Marguerite 
mending Pons’s festa tunic, and her tongue wagging 
like a bell-clapper. 

Presently a tall, slender youth appeared, and walk- 
ing with quiet lagging step to the Dame’s broom, 
took it up and began to sweep the yard with long, 
rhythmic strokes. He wore a coarse brown suit, 
with neither pouch nor dagger on the belt, and wooden 
shoes on his finely-shaped feet, yet the clear-cut, dark 
face, the poise of proud head on straight shoulders, 
the careful combing of the dark hair, and the clean 
white hands, all said “ noble ” loudly. Marguerite 
eyed him with interest. 

His eyes were very sad, yet as he caught sight of 
the pretty picture of the girl upon the marble fountain 
edge, holding her hand out to a whirling dove, his 
finely-cut lips parted in an involuntary smile of pure 
artistic pleasure. And as their eyes met she had a 
sudden foolish wish for her favourite gown of silver 
brocade and her own golden hair daintily dressed, 
instead of her dusky curls and gay red jupon. 

As he swept she saw that on each wrist he had a 
polished steel bangle linked to the other by a small 
chain about a yard long. Sudden pity struck her 
as the seamy side of the prison was thus suddenly 
brought near, and as she looked another man, 
clad in a strange black suit, holding in one hand a 


132 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


crimson half-mask, hurried down the opposite passage 
leading to the Hall of Justice. Marguerite turned 
with relief to the Dame’s jolly warm ear-to-ear 
grin. 

The youth laid down his broom and spoke to the 
Dame. 

“ May I get a draught of cold water, madame ? ” 
His voice was as pleasant as his face. 

“ Surely, my lad ! A dash of wine in’t ? No ? 
Suit yourself, then. The water is within, and by it 
some new baked tarts on the table.” 

“You are over good, bonne amie ! I will rub 
you the metal tazze, ere I begin painting the bench 
you spoke of.” 

“ Now, mon gars ! your hands are not made for 
such work ” 

“ Chut ! ” he struck in. “ They would be stiff 
over my heart long since but for you ! I go!” 
He vanished within into the Dame’s kitchen across 
the court, smiling cheerfully at her. 

“ Who is he ? ” asked Marguerite. The Dame eyed 
her keenly, and made up her mind. 

“ You can be trusted not to blab a queer story ? 
Ay ! Here ’tis ! 

“ Pons, see you, was once head turnkey to the 
Seigneur Raimond des Baux, Prince of Orange, at 
Les Baux in Provence, but six years back he had 
sense enow to hold his tongue about a drunken brawl, 
whereby his Highness’s name might have suffered, 
for which service he was given this office in Naples. 
We had been here maybe two months when Pons 
sought me, with a wry face. 

“ 4 A new prisoner hath bad fever in the lower 
cells,’ said he. ‘ He had best not die if they want to 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 133 


try him. He was sent on from Altamura down 
Salerno way, “ to keep till trial.” Go you to him !’ 

“ So I found a slip of sixteen, raving and crying 
till it sickened me to see his big eyes blazing in his 
chalky face ; yet through my simples he was sane 
again in a few days ; but one night, when he was too 
weak to heed his words, I got his story from him. 

“ It seems (though few know’t) that Prince Raimond 
was twice married, firstly to this lad’s mother, a pretty 
gentle thing, cousin to the Count of Thoulouse, but a 
poor gentleman’s daughter, with no fortune. 

“ Soon her husband felt he had made a bad alliance 
(he a Des Baux could have had a princess), and his 
mock love for her passed like smoke. 

“ Soon after her little son was born he ill-treated 
her — anyhow, she died shortly afterwards, and 
within the year he had wed Madonna Jehanne, 
Princess of Genoa. Young Franyois reached fifteen, 
when one day he rowed on the Bay here alone — and 
was never seen again ! But that same evening the 
Count of Altamura had a prisoner, a “Provenyal 
vassal to Orange,” put into his safe-keeping, and held 
him a year— then I think he found out whom he really 
had in hand, and forthwith sent him hither to Capuana 
and here he hath been these six weary years ! Never 
a word as to his being either freed or tried ! He is 
Count of Andria in his right of eldest son to Orange, 
and now the first-born of the Genoa woman hath 
it. Pons having full power over the prisoners (unless 
he hath express orders otherwise), I spoke straightly : 

‘“I shall let the boy out here, lest he die of 
languor.’ 

“ ‘ His escape means my head,’ grumbled Pons. 

“ 4 Fool ! ’ said I. ‘ A Des Baux’ parole in prison 


134 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


or out is good ! If he is righted any time, shall we 
lose by kindness ? He cannot escape from this yard, 
and it regards none but thou and I ! * 

44 Thus poor Francois came up to sunlight, and doth 
so every day. He is the best of lads — ever wishing 
to aid me, ever courteous as if I were a princess. 
St. Sarah of Arles ! I cannot fathom his father’s 
reasons for’t ! All I can think is, that his other 
children are sickly brats enough, and if they all die 
Fran5ois might yet prove a trump card to prevent 
his nephew’s, Hugues des Baux’s, children from 
succeeding him.” 

44 Certes, ’tis the only reason,” said Marguerite. 
“ Else why did he not drop Francois in a sack into 
the Bay that night ? ” 

“ Why does he hate him at all ? ” went on the 
Dame. “ Ambition is a demon ! As if Frangois’ 
mother’s race were not as ancient and she as honour- 
able as the Genoan House, any day ! The Prince 
has sent not one soldo for the lad’s keep either, 
and the Government’s prisoner-rations are starvation 
— for long. Short-time prisoners are kept by friends. 
Thus we took the ration-money to buy him his rough 
clothes, and as none questions the food matters I 
keep him. He protested at first. 4 Fichtre ! ’ said 
I, 4 you may as well have these scraps as the Poor 
Nuns. Is my husband not your born vassal from 
Mondragon ? So sure as I hail from Sisteron des 
Alpes, we are your servants, and only your jailers 
by hard fate.’ ” 

44 1 knew not that Orange and Des Baux had rights 
of High and Low Justice in Naples over their 
Provengal vassals. I deemed them the Queen’s ! ” 
said Marguerite. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 135 


“ So they are ! ” snapping her cotton off angrily. 
64 But the poor Queen hath web enow of her own to 
unreave ! She would free Francois now, if she knew ! 
But I can never see her, or get a paper through, for 
those monkey-chamberlains who might lay it before 
Prince Raimond — and then we should all be lost ! 
When next she comes to Capuana, I shall try to 
get a word with her myself. Coming ! Coming, 
Pons ! ” 

She went in, and Marguerite clapped her hands 
silently, and laughed. It was good to be royal some- 
times ! Fran£ois came out bearing a bench and a pot 
of paint, and she smiled at him, glad again that as a 
jongleuresse she was free to talk to any one. 

44 May I aid your task ? ” she cried brightly. 44 Give 
me a brush ! ” 

The paint-pot evoked memories of a forbidden 
childish joy, and of an escapade wherein figured 
vividly a painter of Taranto, in the palace corridor 
a soiled frock, and a rating from Donna Agneta. 

Like Louis, she did most things well at first trial, 
and Francis saw naught amiss with her work. 

The postern gate into the street opened, and the 
light it shed on the short passage into the yard made 
him look up, and then he sighed. 

44 Dash for’t ! ” said she carelessly. 

44 Ah, madame, the gate of my word passed to my 
kind jaileress is higher than any wall. Only on parole 
do I quit my cell.” 

44 1 had forgot — she told me something of — I asked 
her — I am not indiscreet,” she stammered ; but he 
only smiled sadly. 

44 Yet, were I you, temptation would be strong.” 

Quick disappointment crossed his look. 


136 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


“ Cannot a jongleuresse who sings ever of love and 
honour not guess it impossible to me ? ” 

“Yet I thought that all prisoners could transpose 
the lover’s motto, ‘Amor — to Libertas omnia vincit,’ 
and hold freedom over all else,” she said somewhat 
tormentingly. 

“ Why is it that all women, no matter their degree, 
never grasp the bond a true knight’s word is to him ? ” 
he queried sadly. “ Years ago I had a little cousin — 
just as you — she let her heart rule her sense of honour 
always, and would lie any day to save me from a 
penance.” 

“ Nay ! ” she cried vexed at his quick opinion of 
her. “ I did but jest ! Certes, a man must keep oath, 
even though we women let heart rule head, as we 
have done from Dido to myself ! ” 

“ Happily — else we should not find you half so 
interesting. But poor Madame Dido’s heart-rule 
had terrible ending — I ever pitied her. Where got 
you your learning of Latin thus, madame, an I may 
ask ? ” 

“ I was taught by some nuns,” picked Marguerite, 
mindful of the stately Abbess of St. Lucia di Taranto. 
“ Oft one read me Messer Virgil’s iEneids.” 

From his tunic-folds he drew a small parchment 
leaf book roughly bound in sendal. 

“ These are but his rustics, his bucolics ; yet I hold 
them his sweetest works, ipv his visions of wide green 
fields, fair rivers, and free folk, oft delight my dark 
days — which are frequent, despite the Dame’s goodness. 
She got me this book from a poor scholar’s cell — he 
having gone to hear the divine Virgil himself in the 
Elysian Fields. I envy him often.” 

“ Oh, were I you I should run mad ! ” she cried 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 137 


impetuously. “ Why live such monsters as your 
tyrant unsmitten of heaven ? ” 

“ Hush-sh ! ” said he, a hand on her jimped sleeve. 
“ None must hear ! I may have deserved my fate — 
I was a wild, wilful lad — to lock me up was my sire’s 
idea of banishment to a hated thing ” 

“ Domna nostra ! ” she said passionately. “ I 
cannot think you a milksop — yet you speak folly ! 
A brute breaks your life’s every sweetness by seven 
dreadful years in jail, yet you make excuse for him ! 
Sire or no sire, I should try to kill him ! ” 

“ My hate was hot at first,” said he, looking her 
full in the face, yet speaking very low. “ But my 
mother loved him once, and for her sake it became 
easier to bear, not because I hated him less, but because 
I understood his motive after. His love for her turned 
to hate, and that is ever the worst kind of hatred. 
I am very like her in ways, and looks, so he loathed 
me. His injustice to me is that had he told me this 
plainly, I would have ridden off to France or Palestine 
and never vexed him more ; — but no ! I was thrown 
to rot here ! Hate him ! He slew my mother in 
intent, if not in deed, and for her sake I could slay him 
— in fair fight — now ! My own wrong I could forgive, 
because — eh — because my old tutor, Fr&re Aidan, 
taught me some follies (you may call them) as to for- 
giveness of foes.” 

His pale face flushed, and his grip tightened on the 
brush he held, dignifying the homely thing into 
semblance of a sword, and as he stood there tense with 
fierce feeling, Marguerite knew very surely that this 
was no milksop but a Man. All the youths she had 
yet known had held quick bloody vengeance for even 
slight insults the true creed, and to find one who 


138 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


forgave for such reasons as his, a life-wrong, roused 
her inmost curiosity and sympathy. But he dipped 
the brush sharply in the paint. 

“ Forgive me ! Captivity makes me too talkative ! 
I weary you with my griefs,” he said, reddening still 
more. 

“ Nay, blame me for questioning so far ! Yet it 
was but for sympathy. Even if we seem strangers, 
I feel as if I had known you longer, and folk ever 
confide in me. I draw them somehow,” she said, 
holding out her hand frankly. 

“ Gracious friend, ’tis strange, but I also felt that 
with you ! Old Pythagoras, you know, saith that 
souls have many persons. Who knows if you were 
not once some adorable Greek nymph, and I a happy 
shepherd, who talked with you in the forests, and now 
we meet ” 

Here came interruption. Louis, crossing the court, 
spied her sparkling eyes and the youth’s eager expres- 
sion, and read thence that his wilful sister followed her 
habit of making perfectly unhappy every lad she 
neared. 

Mischief glowed in the Prince of Taranto’s eye. 

“ Hey, wife ! Come w r ithin to our meal ! ” he 
called cheerfully. 

Francis painted on, a sudden damp on his spirits. 

“ His wife ! ” he muttered, as they entered the sala. 
“ What is it to me ? Francois des Baux, art a fool 
indeed that a few kind words stir thee so ! ” 

And Louis said in her ear meanwhile : 

“ Leave him alone, naughty maid ! ” 

“ What did I, pray ? Mean you I trifled with him ? 
Bah ! stupid ! He is not like the young fools at home. 
Honi soit qui mal y pense 1 ” indignantly. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 139 


“ Good then, cara ! I did but ask ! He looks too 
good a fellow to make fret for a freak, ’tis all ! Since 
you are warned, I say no more.” 

“ She falls in love and out again, once a week 
usually,” he thought. 64 Her caprices are never 
serious, praise the saints ! ” 

But even a wise Louis may be mistaken at times ! 
And during the next week the Princess of Taranto 
and the luckless prisoner certainly developed an 
extraordinary talent for finding occupation in the 
courtyard at the same time. 

“ I met Madonna Mabrice di Pace this morn,” 
said Louis to Marguerite. 

“ And changed amorous gazes, I doubt not,” 
teased she. 

“ Not I ! Foolish maid ! ” with an attempted 
playful slap, which she evaded nimbly. 

“ But she is of use, for she wishes to present me 
to Arnaud de Coutignac, the Queen’s trovere, so that 
he may give us some tickets for the Court d’ Amour at 
Capua, for none but known troveres are to be admitted. 
So I said we would meet them for supper to-night 
at the Tazza d’Oro. She did not look best pleased 
’vyhen I mentioned my wife ! I will make her the 
cobla this afternoon. I thought to go with this 
Arnaud to Capua would be pleasant, and then I will 
make a canzone for the Queen and sing it there — or, 
stay ! I will make one, but he shall sing it, and make 
a mystery of the writer. Eh, picture the jape of 
being solemnly called up to be presented to our 
mother and the others ! ” 

“ But what if she packs me home again in anger ? 
I am so happy with thee, brother 1 ” 

Louis laughed. 


140 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


“ Time enough yet to weary of this frolic, in a week 
and more. But what concerns me is that do what I 
will I cannot catch sight of the Queen. She seems to 
keep the Castel from sheer perversity. One would 
think she knew her wandering, mad cousin was a-gaze 
for her ! 

“ I learned, too, in my trot this morn how badly 
hated are the Hungarians — never one passed but some 
Italian spat or made 4 the Evil Eye * sign at him. 
I followed one captain of horse up Via Carbonara — 
and heard him cursed just seventeen times ! ” 

Dame Blancdine and her other lodger, the jovial 
Barberoux, came into the sala shaking with laughter. 

“ Ho ! ho ! ho ! Such a jest ! ” roared the Dame, 
mopping her eyes. “ Heard you ever of one Conrad 
the Wolf, Messire Vivien ? ” 

44 Once over,” said cautious Louis. 

“ Barberoux knows an ill-deedy Saxon in his troop, 
who told him that some clever fellow went to an inn 
at Pavosa, and quarrelled with the Wolf. ’Twas 
dark, and St. Anne alone knows what truly happed, 
but the fellow knocked Conrad on the head, tied him 
in bed, and went off in his mail, riding at the troop 
head into Naples — made an excuse to dismount, and 
vanished in the dark ! There lay the Wolf at the 
inn till anon, when the frighted landlord hath just 
come to Castel Nuovo to get a litter for him ! Oh the 
brave villain who did’t ! The best is, that none of 
them can describe the man ! In dark he came, in 
dark he left them, and the cruel Huns are so cursing 

mad ! Go on, Barberoux — I must laugh ! ” 

And laugh she did, till she cried. The great German 
grinned. 

44 Our Dame is a staunch Jehanniste ! She bet me 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 141 


all Huns were asses long since. But ’tis very fine ! 
I would give a month’s pay to have that same rascal 
in my troop — he must be a rare one ! Why, Conrad’s 
mail has been found in San Gennaro all neatly in a 
sack ! ” 

“ I ever heard Conrad was cruel,” said Louis. 

Dame Blancdine stopped laughing. 44 Cruel ! Why, 
even Michel, the Head Tormentor, refused to work 
under him here ! There, enough ! Your wife goes 
white — she is unused to it. Ho, I come, Pons ! I 
have no wings yet — Baudet impatient ! ” 

On their way to the Tazza d’Oro that night the 
brother and sister took an indirect course, walking 
on the shore where the blue waves lapped the quays, 
and whence they could see the great new fort of St. 
Elmo behind the town and Ischia in the sea. Then 
they went amid the gay booths, past Castel de l’Ovo 
on the sand, and back again by the Porta Reale of 
Castel Nuovo, with its grim iron portcullis grinning 
dog-toothed in the dusk. 

A figure in crimson satin mantle with gorgeous 
diamond-dusted plume in its cap, followed by four 
gentlemen-in-waiting, crossed the drawbridge and 
was saluted by the guards’ lifted pikes as the gate 
rose promptly. 

44 There goes Philippe ! ” said Louis gleefully to 
Marguerite. 44 1 saw Niccolo Accaijuolo this morn, 
but I pulled down my hood, and he knew me not ! 
We shall have a merrier night than either, I’ll vow ! 
Come we back now to Larga Carbonara and the 
Tazza d’Oro.” 

The fashionable inn’s chief room was large, square, 
hung with stamped leather wall-hangings, and 
furnished with elegant carved chairs, while richly 


142 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


wrought brass lamps shed light on well-liveried 
servers. 

Mabrice di Pace, however, had arrived first, and 
had ordered supper in a smaller room behind, and now 
waited them with Arnaud de Coutignac. The Queen’s 
Maids had the graceful privilege of dispensation from 
duennas, and so walked Naples at will, immune 
from annoyance as nuns, known by their blue crown- 
broidered mantles ; so that Mabrice was alone with 
the famous trovere. 

He was a thin man, very light on his feet, with 
pointed fair beard and moustache, over which his 
fine blue eyes shot dreamy but expressive glances. 

Louis’s look countered his with the glance of 
instinctive inquiry, then knew a friend, and 
dropped hostility. 

Mabrice introduced them to each other, and then 
Louis presented “ his wife Rita ” to her, and gave 
her the promised cobla, a pretty trifle, which pleased 
her fastidious taste ; and she smiled graciously upon 
him. 

She was an odd girl : vain, light, ready to jest with 
a handsome man, stranger or friend ; and yet below 
all that there was a certain dark ferocity unguessed 
by any, and never so far fully roused. Louis attracted 
her, and even though he had a wife, she made no 
difference in her manner to him — indeed, she was more 
than amiable to Marguerite, for she secretly hoped 
that he might sing her a cobla in the coming Court 
d’ Amour — or, if not there, at another one. 

Marguerite took an early chance to inform her that 
she was convent-reared, and of her marriage with 
Louis, even as she had done for the Dame ; so that 
Mabrice treated the supposed jongleuresse as her 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 143 


equal, and they chatted of trifles, while Louis and 
Arnaud began to speak of Queen Jehanne. Arnaud 
spoke eloquently. 

“ She is never from my mind for more than an 
hour ! I hold myself most blessed among men, that 
I might voice her praise to the world ! To-day she 
looked at me on the terrace — I made a canzone at 
once. When you see her, you will know you have 
only then beheld the light of day ” 

“ Wait, messire,” said Louis, watching his ecstatic 
gestures curiously. “ I am well used to the hot praise 
of ourGaie Science, and its heighteningof the beloved’s 
charm. But this Queen, this Eighth Wonder, 
lauded of high and low alike — man to man, tell me 
honestly — is she all you say ? ” 

“ Oh, unbeliever from most remote regions ! ” cried 
Arnaud, opening wide his blue eyes. “ She is ! A 
thousand times — she is ! And then I have not sung 
the half of her adorableness ! I spare rhapsody. But 
Queen Jehanne is all good things in one ! Let her 
be what you will, grave or gay, she is alike irresistible ! 
She is strong, she is fierce, she is great. Her eyes 
in wrath are soul-scorching flames — in gentleness, 
the Day Star itself ! Oh, in her gentle mood she is 
strongest — she lays hold on one’s heart with flower- 
petal-soft finger-tips, but that clasp is firmer than 
another’s steel fetters. I spend my life singing of 
her loveliness.” 

Louis slipped his vielle from shoulder and laid it 
on a chair, as the supper of grilled quails, fried fish, 
and panneforte was carried in ; but when the servers 
were gone to fetch wine he spoke. 

“ Give me your word, messire and madonna, that 
you will tell no other person your opinion of my voice 


144 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


until I free you from promise, and I will sing for you — 
a mad request, but I am a whimful fellow. I would 
fain compete for the Golden Lily at the Court d’Amour 
— but I am very vain of my verse, and if another man 
sings it, I should be most sure of its separate merit. 
Thus I am doubtful of singing it myself ” 

“ Strange — but we of the Gaie Science are all mad 
somewhere ! Ay, I promise, and Madonna Mabrice 
nods,” said Arnaud, as Louis took up the vielle. 

“ Give me your canzone of to-day,” he said ; and 
Arnaud gave it. 

Then he sang. The liquid sounds thrilled and 
soared, exquisitely sweet, alive with passion and 
desire, natural, unforced as a bird’s willing notes. 
The union of the passionate words and the silvery 
flute of a voice was perfect, and when the last splendid 
note died Arnaud, true impulsive Southerner, flung 
his arms round the singer’s neck. 

“ Oh, golden voice ! Oh, divine gift ! ” he cried. 
“ King of troveres, hail ! The Golden Lily is thine 
already ! Not sing thyself ? Madness ! Why, Messer 
Orpheus, forgive a humble singer for not knowing 
thee before! Sing again. Come morn, I hale thee 
to the Queen perforce ! ” 

Arnaud was too great a trovere to let jealousy’s 
least shade cloud his joy in this wonderful discovery 
of art. 

But Louis held up a warning hand. “ Your pro- 
mise ! ” he said calmly. “ I may be mad, but I do 
not wish to sing to the Queen till the Court — perchance 
not then. If I so decide, will you sing me the canzone 
I shall make when once I have seen her ? ” 

Arnaud made a despairing gesture : “ Eh, man ! I 
must humour you, lest you depart and leave me 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 145 


lamenting — I will ! But, pray — repent, and sing to 
Jehanne the Unsurpassed ere then ! ” 

“ Certes, I will sing to her — but in my own time. 
Nay, madonna, you are too kind.” 

Mabrice, completely enthralled by the magic of 
the song, bent suddenly and kissed his hands. 

“ Hail, Master of Song ! ” she cried. “ O happiest 
of women, to cage such nightingale for thine ! ” to 
Marguerite. 

“You are mad as Herod ! 99 declared Arnaud. 
“ Why, you would be the talk of the kingdom in a 
week ! Not sing ! Oh, folly of an immortal ! I will 
only keep silence an you will come to my lodging and 
sing to me each day till Capua ! ” 

“ May I not tell the Queen ? ” begged Mabrice ; 
but Louis was firm. 

“ No ! No ! I will sing all you will, but to you 
alone, till I choose. Here comes the drawer with the 
Falernian ! Let us hope he has not been listening 
outside ! Drink now, and eat this very excellent 
fish ! ” 

And to their laughing disgust he would not hear 
another word of praise all the evening, and they parted 
with promises of a merry meeting at Posilippo the 
next afternoon. 


1 * 


CHAPTER X 


(t Amour si ton poder ist tal 

Enfins que cadun ho raysonne ! ” 

Peyre Remond de Toulouse. 

A week is but short space in some things, but to 
Marguerite and Frangois the time had flown. Despite 
all resolves not to do so, he haunted the courtyard of 
Capuana whenever she was there, and found the hours 
when she was absent with Louis intolerable. 

She, on her side, could not banter and tease this 
calm, sad youth as she did the dashing young 
Tarentine nobles. Instinct told her that high gaiety 
made his bondage seem the more galling, so she showed 
him her gentlest, most delightful self, with the result 
that he fell in love with her, heart and soul. Honour 
and reason fled before her spell, and he lived in jealous 
torment every time Louis, cheerful and indifferent, 
crossed the court. Poor Frangois ! Yet he kept 
silence, and his torment ate his very soul out. 

Two days before the fete at Capua, Marguerite 
told him of Louis’s intended sirvente to the Queen, 
and of Arnaud’s friendship. 

“ Would I could go ! ” he sighed. “ Fain would I 
hear good song again ! The roaring chorus of the 
soldiers, and the few jongleurs who drift here are 
but faint echoes of our sweet singers at Les Baux. 

Once I too made songs, but here 99 

146 


JEIIANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 147 


“ Have you naught you can remember ? ” 

“ No ! Yet stay — I made one trifle since I have 
been here. Here ’tis, madame.” 

She tossed her head very slightly. “ Madame ” 
from him jarred oddly. 

He handed her a parchment slip, and she read 
eagerly, first silently, then, as its swing took her 
aloud, and in keen excitement. 

It was the prisoner’s heart-cry for freedom as the 
young Queen rode by, and he clasped the bars of his 
high grating to see her pass — and ended with her 
passing away unseeing of his despair. Its pathos 
and perfect rhyme struck pity and admiration to 
their deepest depths. 

“ O, messire, you are great ! I vow Arnaud shall 
sing this to the Queen ! She would free you for’t ! 
He is beyond vengeance of your foes — he shall ! 
Refuse not ! ” 

“ Madame, I can refuse you naught. Your gentle- 
ness has been a world to me. Will you not sing to 
me?” He seemed to find speech difficult on a 
sudden. 

Tactfully she turned the subject, marking his 
trouble, and sang a pretty trifle of her own making 
about a queen and her rose garden, a queen who gave 
her heart unasked, so that it faded like the roses. 
Louis called her just then to go into the city with him, 
and as Francis watched her flutter out with her tall 
companion he groaned aloud. Dame Blancdine, 
padding with the silent step of most big-built women, 
came up and touched his shoulder gently. 

“ What’s amiss, petiot ? ” 

“ O — naught ! ” But she shrugged in scorn. 

“ Naught ! ” she mocked friendly. “Then ‘naught’ 


148 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


makes paler face and scanter appetite ? Eh, mon 
gars ! I am not blind — I see ! ” 

He raised a crimson face, and cried in quick fear : 

“ If you see — what danger ! I love Her — and He — 
terrible ! ” 

But the Dame grinned in a way which made him 
grip her wrist. 

“ You mock me ? Oh ” 

“ Nay. Hear comfort, great child ! She is not 
his wife ! Not she ! Women spy farther than any 
man, and I am right ! Oh, start not — they are 
honest, though I cannot quite guess them out. I 
think perchance he is a faithful retainer, who has 
helped her escape a convent or distasteful wedding. 
A dozen little signs tell me they are not wed. Cousins 
on a frolic, maybe ? Yet wait securely, for all comes 
to light in time ! No despairs, my lad ! ” 

“ Despair ! ” groaned Frangois. “ Why, what in 
life can I hope, but existence here. Could I sue her 
rightly, even were I sure she is free ? Make her sad 
for a worth-naught like me ? Once I heard my 
friends in agonies over their love passages and in 
‘ despairs.’ Fools ! Shall any true man despair, 
with freedom and four sound limbs, to win his lady 

through any barrier ? But a prisoner as I am 

Leave me, dear friend, to battle with myself, and pray 
that she may soon leave Naples, and I forget ” 

The Dame for all her noisy ways had much tact, 
and she left him sitting there for some time. 

The morn of the grand Court d’Amour dawned clear 
and blue, a true Neapolitan September day, and as 
the first sun-rays shot over Somna and Vesuvius, the 
road to Capua was astir with people anxious to get 
there before they grew too hot. Overnight, Louis 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 149 


had hired two ponies, which he fetched early, but even 
as he came along Arnaud waited for him by the pos- 
tern door of Capuana, altering his steed’s girths. 
One of Louis’s ponies turned restive, which upset the 
other, so that it waltzed across the Vico. Arnaud 
fast with his own beast could not help. Pons ran 
out and j oined in the melee. A trumpet-blare sounded 
on the main road. 

44 There go some of the royal train now ! Is your 
wife ready ? Women are ever late,” said Arnaud. 
Francois strolled out and looked up the street — over 
the threshold he might not pass — and sighed. 

44 May I call Madame ? ” he asked. Louis busy 
with the girths nodded. Accidentally Francis gave 
the same tripping tap that Louis ever did, and Mar- 
guerite opened sharply. 

He started back with wild wonder, for she held two 
ivory pins, wherewith she was coiling up a rippling 
golden shower of hair, and the short dark curly wig 
lay upon the table ! 

44 Why — what — ? ” he stammered, and there was 
such utter bewilderment on his face that she laughed 
— yet saw he was beyond laughter. 

44 1 am not — a jongleuresse — ” she faltered. He 
took her hand in a clasp there was no evading, and 
his voice was hard as he asked — 

44 Are you his wife ? Who are you ? ” 

44 No ! — His sister — t’was a jest, a freak — I — you 

must wait — I cannot say my name ” she faltered, 

watching the amazing changes flitting in his look. 
Then on a sudden they understood each other, and 
she looked up, a new glow in her eyes. 

44 Art glad ? ” she asked softly. And then she 
could not speak for good reasons. 


150 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


“ Ma mie — ” he said very low. “ But I am un- 
worthy — whoe’er you are ” 

She slipped from his arms, and hastily coiled up her 
hair, and donned the dark curls. 

“ Not another question, beloved ! I shall free thee 
to-day — or anon. My brother calls now ! Till this 
even, dearest.” 

In another moment she had run down, and was in 
her saddle unaided, in the Vico, smiling till Louis 
looked uneasily at her. 

They rode from Porta Capuana along the white 
road, amid a motley throng, of squires and pages 
bearing shields, helms, and mantles, trovere, and jong- 
leurs of all degrees, some afoot, some a-horse ; knights 
escorting ladies, monks, lazzaroni in many hued rags, 
tumblers turning somersaults by the way — all the 
rabble of a Neapolitan crowd. 

Then passed a splendid little train all a- jingle, and 
a-gleam with mail and gold-fringed housings ; a blue 
satin tabarded squire bore a banner with the sixteen- 
pointed comet of the Maison des Baux. 

“ There rides the Seneschal of Provence,” said 
Arnaud, as Hugues des Baux passed them at the trot 
on his big roan, Destrier. 

“ Raimond des Baux comes not methinks. There 
go Savoy’s white and red pennons, a-head ! Ber- 
trand des Baux will ride with his friend, the Red Count. 

“Countess Ithamar tells me the Empress will not 
come to-day, but to the wonder of all men, Prince 
Andrea sent the Queen word early this morn that he 
will attend ! None can fathom it ! He at a Court 
d’ Amour ! Ha ! 

“ That peculiar fanfare is the Queen’s own escort’s ! 
Pull we to one side and now at last you will see her 


JEIIANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 151 


come. If you sing that most innane canzone you 
gave me to read yestereve, I will eat it, faith of a 
trovere ! ” 

Louis laughed as they wheeled their beasts off the 
road on to the field, which sloped level and hedgeless 
on either side. 

Louis had, despite every effort, never seen Jehanne 
until now. Fate seemed adverse, and he had missed 
her at every turn, even by a few moments. He had 
made a canzone, which Arnaud flouted as wooden, 
and he had meant to sing it in his assumed role of 
unknown trovere, trusting to his voice’s charm to do 
her honour, more than to the words. He had been in 
two minds and had almost decided to let Arnaud 
sing it, but he had yielded to the united entreaties of 
Mabrice and the trovere to let his gift shine to all 
Naples, and so rode forth. 

A long roar of cheers ran like wind in long grass, as 
the crowd cleared left and right of the road. Arnaud 
pleasantly gossipy rambled on ; as the Guard clanged 
by, their mail silver in the sun, under the great banner 
of Anjou : 

“ Our Jehanne always rides — and mostly at the 
pace of King Jehu the Furious. Her demon of a 
steed, Eblis, none- but she can back — nor even bridle 
unless she be in the stall. This vexes the Prince, but 
she never heeds it.” 

Louis’s gaze was riveted on his long sought sight. 
Now at last he saw Queen Jehanne face to face, and 
she struck him dumb and stiff. In that one instant 
his world, plans, and hopes were shattered and made 
a-new. 

She sat throned on a huge black horse, fretting, 
prancing, yet obedient to every turn of her slim 


152 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


wrist on his golden rein ; her clinging, white samite 
robe showed every line of her lovely supple figure, 
slender yet strong, graceful as a swaying lily. But 
the glory of the face below the jewelled coronet, and 
the light of the eyes which outshone the diamonds 
therein, passed all descriptions of Arnaud or any 
other. 

And suddenly those eyes met his ! 

Jehanne started, and the steed half-reared at her 
check on the bit. 

For there beside Arnaud de Coutignac, in the light 
of day rode the Man of her strange vision of the night 
of long ago — he the Impossible, as she had told Gio- 
vanni ! But in a moment she closed her wonder- 
parted lips, drove back the flush, the amazement from 
her face, and smiled friendly at Arnaud, who saluted 
her to the saddle bow. 

Louis had ridden into the adventure lightly, for a 
whim, a revel, meaning to ride out as lightly, with a 
song before his brothers and her, or some like jesting 
denouement — he had planned it all, even to picturing 
the grimaces his brothers would make at being so 
tricked by him. 

But now with that one look at her the game grew 
earnest, the card-house of his jest was wrecked by the 
sudden flood of fierce passion — swept away in one 
wave. 

Then came a chill like the tramontano wind in the 
southern mid-day heat. A little behind Jehanne on 
a quiet bay horse, with awkward manner and uneasy 
seat, sat her husband, the white-visaged, slovenly 
Prince. 

Louis’s dream was broken, and he roused himself 
to find Arnaud dragging his elbow. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 153 


“ Eh man ! Who said I overdrew her splendour ? 
What ? Now perchance you will be glad to sing to 
her.” 

Louis gathered his reins with scarce feeling hands, 
and his voice was hoarse as he replied : 

“ Sing that wretched canzone ? No, not for the 
Lily ! She is Artemis herself ! Sing you your 
‘ Golden Lips,’ for I raise not a note to-day ! I am 
dumb stricken. You were right.” 

“ What ? Not sing ! O chaos of my hopes ! O 
misfortune of the Muse ! ” 

Arnaud ran into a chorus of laments, persuaded, 
stormed, entreated, but all to no purpose. Louis 
was inflexible, and rode on as one deaf. 

“ He would not budge for an earthquake. I know 
his mood ! ” said Marguerite, and Arnaud sank into 
regretful silence, as they rode on to Capua. 

This Court d’Amour at Capua was the most splendid 
held there since the patrician residents of Roman 
Campania filled its great arena to see the fearful 
gladiatorial games ; now for a peaceful strife it was as 
gorgeous a picture as any of old. 

From a huge, central mast ran a gigantic spider’s 
web of silk ropes supporting the fine linen canopy 
over the whole vast Roman shell of masonry. This 
and the other poles were all twined with garlands of 
roses and ferns, while to lessen the great heat, white 
pillars of snow from the Calabrian mountains stood at 
intervals on the arena’s sand. Queen Jehanne’s 
azure velvet, gold-stamped with Anjou’s fleur-de-lys, 
covered the editorial seat, a broken marble bench, 
as regally as ever Caesar’s purples, but her present 
throne was a backless Greek stool of ivory and silver, 


154 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


standing upon a square of shell-pink velvet, with a 
footstool of pink rose-heads. On the steps ascending 
to it, covered with cloth of silver, stood six beautiful 
pages clad as Mercuries, in close hose of pink silk, 
with white swan- wings on their shoulders, and holding 
silver trumpets for the signals. 

Above the stool was the canopy of ferns and roses 
designed by Arnaud, and at the foot of the steps were 
seats for Princess Marie, Duchess Agnes, and the 
Princes of the blood, with whom sat Andrea, since the 
Queen of the Court must sit alone, but behind her 
sat her lesser ladies, and at her right hand on a table 
lay the Golden Lily the prize of the day, a fine pearl 
for its heart, and exquisitely wrought by a noted 
Florentine smith. Across the arena were the jong- 
leurs appointed squires of the trovere for the day, 
holding their principals’ armour and swords, for by the 
laws of the Song-Contest, if one singer liked not 
another’s verse or sentiments, he might challenge 
him to joust with blunted weapons, and this made 
some pretty encounters. 

Judgment on the songs was given by twelve fair 
ladies experienced in every nuance and turn of song 
and tender passion, with the Queen’s as a casting 
vote, should they divide equally in opinion. 

Thus went the contest : 

Two singers upheld each their lady, and the victor 
met another ; if he vanquished him, he sang on again 
till ten were thus conquered. Then he met the 
victor of another ten, and against him sang for the 
final victory. If the Court were like to-day a large 
one there might be four or five in the last tenzon, 
and this made it exciting as whist, for a single lost 
trick barred a man from the whole. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 155 


They sang at two ivory desks in the arena, under a 
sounding-board of cedar, in front of the Queen’s 
throne. 

Prince Andrea was smiling sourly to-day, well 
content to be the chill on the gay gathering’s spirits, 
the worm in the rose of his wife’s pleasure. He hated 
the trovere and all their works, but to-day he eyed 
them with the grim joy of an ogre watching his victims 
nearing his trap. 

“ Eh, wait only ! ” he chuckled to himself. “ One 
sweep of our Eastern steel’s wind will send these 
rotten moths flying in clouds from the land! And 
she— Aha ! ” 

But across the arena hidden among the jongleurs 
sat Louis of Taranto, watching the Queen’s every 
breath, intent on one thing only — the desire to speak 
to her soon. His plans were confused, he knew not 
whether to end the farce next day, and go boldly to 
Castel Nuovo, or use Mabrice and see her as the jong- 
leur. Meanwhile he watched, and the entreaties of 
Arnaud to him to sing were unavailing. Arnaud 
went forth to lead off the first tenzon, with one 
Bertrand de Pezars (singing for his lady Rixende 
d’Auraison). 

Of the many trovere in their bravery of sendal, 
gold lace, white plumes, gems and perfumes, mustered 
that day the roll is over long, yet may be noted in the 
lists, Marchbruse de Poitou (singing to Blanche de 
Cadenet), Taraudet de Flassans, knight to Iseult 
Roger, Guillaume Boyer of Nice the adorer of Made- 
lame de Berre, all noble by birth as well as song. 

These for Provence, and for Italy as many more. 

Arnaud in his first tension stated that Naples could 
show more than Provence in loveliness, yet that its 


156 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


fairest flower was Provencal, and that his unknown 
lady was fairest of all. 

Voice, words, fancy, vanquished de Pezars, and 
Arnaud dealt alike with the first ten. White faces 
showed among the fair ranks below the Queen, as he 
held his victorious way, and the trovere nudged sides 
among each other, as they saw through the thin 
gauze veiling the Lady. 

The sunny day wore on, the little pages handed 
round iced wines and sweet confections on golden 
salvers, the ivory-handled pen on the jury’s dainty 
parchments worked busily as needles, the maids and 
varlets plied long-stalked fans ceaselessly, the flow of 
song rolled sweetly smooth. 

Andrea wearied of the whole performance, and then, 
heedless of the best and wittiest song of Italy, log- 
like, he yawned, dozed — and finally snored aloud. 

Clear in the hush following the defeat of March- 
bruse by Arnaud, in the beginning of the final tenzon 
of four, a snore penetrating even to the common 
audience broke from the Prince. 

Picture, if you can, the titter which circled the 
arena. Even in the Court seats — covert, but none the 
less a jeer. 

Nicholas Ungaro and the Ban of Croatia fast in 
their seats below the bevy of goddesses of the jury 
could not rouse him, and Mabrice di Pace, heedless of 
her duty as loyal Chamberlain’s daughter, though 
near her Prince, had become a maid of wax, with eyes 
only for Queen Jehanne. 

For a moment Jehanne looked about her, saw the 
red faces of even her friends, the kerchiefs stuffed in 
the mouths, Amaury’s averted head, marked the 
coarser sniggers beyond the Court pale. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 157 


Then deliberately she rose, and stepping down three 
steps, spoke to Marie, who was playing nervously with 
her embroidered veil. 

“ Wake the hog ! ” she whispered. Marie looked 
afraid. 

“ Is’t well what you do ? ” she asked. “ Do’t 
yourself — I like not.” 

“ I will not be the mock of Naples ! ” returned 
Jehanne. “ Do as I bid you, ma mie.” 

Marie leaned over, and touched Andrea’s head. 

Jehanne stepped back, and sat down again with a 
challenge in her eye as she glared round the circle that 
no impudent boy in the people’s seats could brook 
with a chuckle, she raised the flower-twined silver 
baton she held, for the next tenzon to begin. 

A sudden cheer rose from the whole arena, and 
effectually roused Andrea, who seeing naught, deemed 
it for the singers, but Friar Robert mumbling his 
finger-tips with rage, in a seat far off, noted to some 
purpose. 

Then when of the thirty trovere only one remained, 
the last of the chosen three of the tens, a famous 
Milanese Gaetano, who upheld a lady of Verona, and 
Arnaud the wonderful, the unfailing of melody and 
wit, knew his time was come for his greatest canzone 
of the day, the one he had sent by Cavaillon, wherein 
the mysterious “ Labri d’Oro,” was revealed as Je- 
hanne the Incomparable. 

The applause was fit to rend the canopy on high, 
and in the storm of sound Arnaud smiled. He 
guessed that shouts of “ Sing again ! ” would rush 
close behind it, and they did. 

Then he drew out a parchment, and instead of 
some raptured canzone, alba, or witty siwente , the 


158 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


wildly pathetic prisoner’s lament made melodious the 
air. The audience waited for it to turn to some 
pretty allegory of love-captivity of trovere-dom, but 
it ended in the same strain. 

None the less they applauded hotly. 

Jehanne listened, puzzled, and attentive, to the 
strange song, the woe of bondage finding echo in her 
own soul, and jumping oddly in connection with 
thoughts of her realised Dream Face. She was eager 
for the Court to end, so that she might question 
Arnaud, perchance speak with the Other. 

It seemed long till the jury had got through the 
form of the final vote, till the heralds had cried that 
the Lily was Messire de Coutignac’s. 

Then Arnaud marched forward to take the Lily and 
palm wreath from her hands. 

“ Who wrote that song, messire ? Not you me- 
thinks ? That prisoner’s woe rings too bitter to be 
aught but true material bondage.” 

She was raking the audience with her gaze, but 
could not find Louis, for he had effaced himself behind 
a pillar. 

Arnaud thought of the hundred ears which would 
hear Francois’ story, and spied Raimond’s wife, Prin- 
cess of Genoa, a subdued, sad lady. Why shame her 
with her husband’s past villainies ? 

“ Most Perfect, grant me torell you later.” 

Jehanne nodded graciously. 

“As Victor of Capua you have right to ride home 
by me. Tell me then,” she said. 

With a blare of trumpets, a roar of cheers, and a 
wild stampede into the open to see the Queen ride by, 
the great Court d’Amour of Capua was ended. 

She leant low in her saddle as Arnaud’s jennet 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 159 


trotted beside tall Eblis, a little flush on her cheek, 
“ One more question, messire. Who is the tall man 
who rode with you this morning ! I have never seen 

him in Naples, yet he seems familiar to me ” 

Arnaud glanced up curiously at her. 

“ Most Gracious, he is a French trovere, one Vivien 
de Chartres, a new-comer to Naples — but though he 
calls himself de Chartres, I dub him Orpheus, for such 
a voice as his has never struck my ear — no, not in all 
my world- walkings ! I did my best to make him sing 
to-day, but he would not — he is whimsical as the wind! 

He may depart as he came •” 

“ Could you get him to sing to me ? ” she said 
eagerly. “ I must hear him if you praise him 
thus — ■” 

“ Aha ! She is curious.” thought Arnaud, then 
aloud, “ He shuns the Court, Altesse — I know not 
why. Nothing he ever does is reasonable ! ” 

“ You rouse my curiosity beyond bounds. A 
trovere who shuns Courts ! See now, messire, could 
you get him to come to say — the Tazza d’Oro, to-night ? 
I will don a plain robe, and in company with our dear, 
discreet Giovanni (who would take me to the moon 
did I so ask him) slip from the garden postern, for an 
hour or two. You can tell your trovere that I am — 
let me consider — ah yes, I am Countess of Forcalquier 
— that will serve — and that I love song, and my jeal- 
ous husband doth not ? You understand ? I should 
love to come out thus, for once to have a merry 
night ! ” 

“ So did King Ilaroun A1 Raschid by all accounts ! 
Bene ! If it pleases my exalted Star to prowl all 
Naples I am at her service ! I will have him alone 
at the Tazza d’Oro, to meet my noble patroness 


160 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Madame de Forcalquier from nine o’ the clock on- 
wards.” 

Jehanne laughed as she shook Eblis’ rein, and they 
bounded forward towards Naples. 

* $ $ $ $ 

Torches flashed yellow in the soft southern dusk of 
the evening after the Court d’Amour. 

“ Who goes there ? ” challenged the sentry at 
Castel Capuana. 

“The Grand Justicer of Naples! St. Martha and 
Salerno ! ” came answer and password of the night. 

Bertrand des Baux, fresh from a gay scene of Castel 
Nuovo, by his magnificent dark blue satin cotte 
hardie, slashed with green and silver, stood, an 
incongruous figure, in the dark inner courtyard 
whither hurried Pons with his keys. 

“ Take me to the young fellow called Francois, in 
cells line four,” consulting a paper. Pons, all a-scare, 
obeyed. 

Francois, sound asleep on his hard bed, stirred at 
the voices, so loud in the narrow cell, and started up 
equally startled and alarmed. 

Was trial coming at last ? But ere his fears could 
fully shape, a well-known remembered face showed 
in the lantern-dazzle — his father’s cousin Bertrand. 

But Francois was a Des Baux also, and hid the sus- 
pense which swept him, the fears which crept, and 
met the stern brown eyes firmly, as he rose. Then to 
his intense surprise, Bertrand laughed and clasped 
his hand with : 

“ Ha, my long-drowned cousin ! Seem a little 
gladder to see me again ! St. Sarah of Arles ! I 
never thought to see you more ! I can spy you still 
for the §ame little lad who rode on my spear at Les 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 161 


Baux fourteen years ago. Come with me, and stretch 
free legs at last ! ” 

“ Why ? How ? I thought myself abandoned of 
heaven and earth ! You knew I am clean of all 
crime — am I for trial ? ” He could not believe his ears. 

“ Pfui ! Never say die ! ” said Bertrand brushing 
a cobweb from his sleeve. “ Nay, De Coutignac told 
the Queen, who sent me now post haste to see if you 
were truly the missing Des Baux, and to free you at 
once. Pardie ! You will pass even in those rough 
sacks of clothes, to please her eye for a smart lad. 
Here — don my cloak to pass the throng at Castel 
Nuovo, and mount my squire’s horse. Come ! 
Surely you would not linger in this hole another 
moment ! ” 

Too dazed to either grasp fully, or question the 
miracle thus come, Francis followed Bertrand with 
quite unsteady step, and only when he felt the trot- 
ting steed warm between his knees, and the night 
wind on his cheek did he realise anything of his free- 
dom ; and even so it seemed but part of a vivid 
dream, as they passed the busy gate of Castel Nuovo, 
and the brilliant throng in the Long Sala, with its 
lights and music. 

“ Humph ! ” thought Bertrand silently, “ I enjoy 
this letting loose of this handsome lad on my old 
beast of a Raimond ! He is a better Des Baux than 
either his brats, or Hugues’s.” 

They reached a quiet room with soft, rose-coloured 
lamp-light, and Fran£ois fell on one knee vaguely 
knowing the Queen’s presence. 

She, glorious in a white cloudy robe, held an en- 
chanting hand to him which broke the spell of 
unreality. 

M 


162 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 

“ You are the Count of Andria ? ” His lost name 
struck him so strangely that he halted, but faltered 
presently : 

“ They called me that once, Majesty ! ” 

“Be seated, messire — you are faint. Small 
wonder ! The Sieur de Coutignac told me your 
terrible story, and sang your splendid song at the 
Court. I sent Count Bertrand at once ; I fear you 
have suffered very greatly. Wine, Mabrice, quickly ! 
I am quite unstrung to think such horror could be 
done unknown to me ! ” 

Francis threw himself at her feet and clasped her 
gown, unmanned by the sudden relief. 

“ Make no excuse,” she said gently, and raised him. 
“ Tell me of your life.” 

Brokenly he spoke of the horrors of Altamura of 
Naples, and of Dame BlancdineV kindly freeing in 
the yard, of Vivien the trovere, Arnaud ; but of 
Marguerite no word. 

“ Majesty, I ask no vengeance on my sire,” he 
ended. “ Only my freedom and pardon for my kind 
jailers.” 

Jehanne smiled and mused. 

“ You say very rightly there ! ’Twould cause 
terrible scandal did I now arraign my own Grand 
Chamberlain — and alas ! it would not restore you 
your spent youth. Yet were it any but he, and 
the state lay not as it does now, I give you my word 
I would have had his head for it ! But I will take a 
vengeance more pleasing to both you and me. Your 
County of Andria is large — a little larger ’twould be 
very well as a Dukedom. I cannot have too many of 
my loyal Proven9aux at hand — I owe you amends 
for what neither of us could help : ah, my poor friend, 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 163 


what you have suffered ! Your sword, Count ! ” to 
Bertrand. 

“ Kneel, Duke of Andria, and put hands in mine 
for your fief ! Soon you shall have your place in the 
Hall of Peers.” 

Franyois never knew how he got through repeat- 
ing the simple oath of fealty after her, and her 
parting smile, and his own stumbling attempt at 
speech as the door closed and shut out the vision 
of her all swam in confusion as Bertrand took him 
away. 

“ I must be mad ! ” he said wildly, as Bertrand’s 
strong arm helped him from saddle on Larga Car- 
bonara before a tall narrow house. “ An hour ago — 
Castel Capuana ! — impossible ! She has made me a 
Duke ! Madness ! ” 

“ I knew she would right you,” replied Bertrand. 
44 That is our Jehanne’s way : a handsome face, a 
pitiful tale like yours — and — I am not amazed. She 
has shrewd eye for merit in a man, too, and holds you 
a good bargain ; besides, the vexation ’twill cause 
your father ! Naught is a wonder in these days — I 
may be a Duke myself in her next generous fit ! Titles 
fly about like bees ! I have brought you to the Count 
of Savoy’s house, where you can sleep, but you must 
quit Naples at dawn. You are no fool, Franyois, I 
take it, and you must know that young resurrected 
Dukes catch fevers, when their enemies come to their 
raising ! I like you, lad, and wish you to have your 
Duchy. The Queen is great — but soon she will be 
great enough to ward such — fevers — from her faithful 
subjects. In Amalfi the air is pure, and at cockcrow 
you ride there with a letter from me to the President 
of its Republic, and there stay till you hear more. 

M 2 


164 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Here is gold,” emptying a pouch of lys d’or on the 
table. 

“ Ay, send my squire, to give your old jaileress one 
or two, but go not yourself. Sleep safe, however, for 
the men of Savoy are like our own. I will tell the 
Queen of your going — and send you a suit of mine to 
ride in.” With which mingled instructions he left him, 
still trying to grasp the astounding events of the day, 
and only when the squire shook him next morning 
with, “ Get up, seigneur ! The horses wait ! ” did 
Francois quite believe it was not a dream. 

But no sooner had Bertrand and Fran£ois left 
Castel Nuovo that night than Jehanne sought in her 
armoire for a certain green mantle. 


CHAPTER XI 


“ Ahi ! Sera sub rosa ! 

N’importe, clii lo sa ? ” 

It was rather late in the evening when Arnaud de 
Coutignac and Louis arrived at the Tazza d’Oro ; 
indeed there were already fewer lamps left burning in 
the sala. They called for wine and sat by the round 
oaken table in one corner of the big room. 

44 Methinks your dame will not come to-night,” 
said Louis, yawning slightly. 44 Was she at the 
Court ? She may be too weary.” 

“ Madame de Forcalquier is rarely weary,” said 
Arnaud smiling. 4 4 And she greatly wished to hear 
you sing. She will come anon.” 

44 She is Provengale you said ? ” 

44 Yes,” said Arnaud curtly. 

44 Strange, she gave us rendezvous here, rather than 
at her palazzo ! ” 

44 1 told you she has a surly husband who favours 
not troveres,” replied Arnaud, praying that Louis 
would cease questioning, lest Jehanne should give 
different answers to him when she came. 

But just then the door opened, and a tall woman 
clad like some well-to-do burgheress in dark green 
stuff, with a dainty silken hood, entered ; a slender 
man in brown suit and wine-hued mantle and chaper- 
eau accompanied her. 

165 


166 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Both were masked. 

“ She comes,” said Arnaud, as they advanced. 

“ Welcome, Messire Arnaud,” said the lady, and 
her voice was a tantalizing delight. “ I am glad you 
have brought your friend. My escort is well known 
to you.” 

“ ’Tis but I, Giovanni,” said the voice of Boccaccio, 
and showed a flash of white teeth below the mask-lace. 
“ Madonna Forcalquier was good enough to bring me 
to hear the nightingale.” 

“ See to what shifts a poor dame with a song-deaf 
husband is put,” laughed Arnaud, with a look full of 
meaning at her. “ Madame de Forcalquier, this is my 
good friend, Messire Vivien de Chartres — whom I 
think Orpheus disguised.” 

“ My friend Arnaud, an he states that I am Orpheus, 
is Ananias — undisguised,” laughed Louis bowing over 
her white hand. “You love our craft, Madonna ? ” 
he added, in Provencal. 

“ Certes, I do, it is my chiefest joy,” she replied, 
seating herself at the table opposite to him, as he sat 
with his back to the wall. Arnaud and Boccaccio 
faced each other at the sides. 

“You did not sing at the Court to-day, messire. 
Why ? ” 

Louis eyed her curiously, but her mask was close, 
and only the eyes shone out, starry, mysterious, and 
provoking. 

“ Because I am unknown here, and because I 
felt unworthy to sing before the Queen,” said he 
bluntly. “ I had made a canzone to her which I 
intended singing, but when I saw her for the first 
time, I knew it for useless — as are most other songs 
to her ! ” 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 167 


“ O, hear the wretch ! ” mocked Arnaud. “ He 
unworthy ! Why, I am but a screeching crow beside 
him ! Sing, Vivien, and let Madame hear if you do 
not lie ! ” 

“Why, then, had you no other lady to uphold?” 
asked she, and Louis saw her fingers playing jerkily 
with her mantle edge. What was it to her ? 

A sudden whiff of suspicion blazed in his mind. He 
sought Arnaud’s face with quick, questioning eyes — 
and the trovere’s did not meet his — he moved ner- 
vously on his seat. 

“ No ! I had no other lady,” he replied curtly. 

“ Domeniddio ! ” laughed Boccaccio in his genial 
way. “ There can be but one reading to that. A 
glorious trovere — has never seen our Queen — has no 
lady — And henceforth — has but one lady ! Eh, 
surety ! ” 

Her hands clasped each other, ivory-white on the 
oaken table’s surface ; then she shrugged and tossed 
her head till Louis saw the crimson of her lips under 
the lace. Quickly he leaned forward, but she laughed 
and dipped her chin low, with an arch flash of her 
eyes. 

“ O — the Queen ! We all know she is Venus ! ” she 
said scornfully. 

“ Sing to me, messire — aught you please.” 

Arnaud passed Louis his vielle and he sang, but only 
a short stanza or two in Provencal. 

“ Drech h razon es qu’you kanti d’Amour ! 

Vezent qu’you ay ja consumat mon agi, 

A l’y complaire e feruir nuech h iour, 

Sens aver d’el profiech ny avantagi ! ” 

(“ Rightly should I sing to you of Love, so do you stir me thereto. 

To please you would I strive night and day — yet without profit or 
result.”) 


168 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Simple words, yet as the golden notes soared aloft, 
lark-like and joyous, a visible tremor ran through 
the slender, green figure. She raised one hand to un- 
mask, and then stopped suddenly as three or four 
cittadini seeking a supper-room looked in at the door. 

However, at Louis’s quick glare, and checked vielle, 
they hastily departed, and then impulsively she clap- 
ped her hands. 

“ Messire, you are indeed Orpheus ! I must hear 
you again ! Ha, friend Arnaud, were I a man, I 
would embrace you for your discovery ! ” 

“ No reason against it even thus — seeing the Sieur 
Forcalquier is absent, and your mask present ! ” 
laughed Boccaccio in high holiday humour, which was 
infectious. 

She sprang up, laughed, and held out her arms to 
Arnaud, who jestingly pretended to clasp her a 
moment. Then she gave both hands to Louis, who 
did not at once release them. Strange, quick thrills 
shot through both as their fingers met, and he gazed 
hard at the baffling mask, guessing — almost certain 
by this. 

“ Sing again for me!” she commanded, reseating 
herself. 

But he laughed. “ Not unless you promise me 
somewhat, madonna.” 

“ O fie ! Bargainer ! ” from Boccaccio. “ Night- 
ingales should sing for joy alone.” 

“ A nightingale likes to look at the Moon Goddess. 
So do I. If she will uncloud herself but a second, then 
I will sing the night long.” 

Giovanni touched her foot warningly under the 
table, but she was in no mood for the hint. From 
what she had previously told him of her strange 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 169 


vision, something may be guessed of the feelings 
which the actual presence of Louis set astir within 
her, and the very fantasticness of her disguise, and 
this tavern adventure put the finishing touch to her 
high excitement. Just then she felt capable of any 
rash, joyous folly, and Boccaccio knowing it, was in a 
fever ; lest any should find out this escapade and his 
own share in it. Arnaud he trusted, but the stranger 
— He found a chance to get her fingers under the table 
and whisper — 

44 Caution cara — no unmasking ! ” 

“ Needless ! Besides I will have a merry night for 
once,” she whispered back. Then aloud to Louis. 
44 Sing, Orpheus ! I will accede to your request.” 

Louis took the vielle and started a canzone. She 
watched with delight the brave picture he made 
against the dark panelled wall, the lamplight glowing 
bright upon his splendid frame, touching up the fires 
in his ruddy hair, and sword hilt, and chain. 

Her ears were captive to his marvellous voice’s 
spell again, but before the first verse ended the door 
opened to admit three men, calling the host for 
wine. 

Suddenly a fierce oath broke from one. 

44 Ha, Ladislaus ! The fellow who tried to brain 
me at the inn ! Draw, lads ! ” It was Conrad the 
Wolf, Mikel Vardag, and the Ban of Croatia’s young 
brother George. 

Louis instantly had recognised them, but never 
broke melody for that, only singing on instead of 
the canzone’s words in Langue d’Oc : 

« Cometh the foe — O take the lady hence now, brothers mine ! ” 

But the Wolf advanced, hand on hilt. 


170 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


“ Now, dog ! What do you here ? ” he growled. 

Louis thrummed on calmly, but stopped singing to 
ask, puzzled, of Mikel Vardag : 

“ Is the seigneur mad ? What means he ? ” and 
sat there behind the table touching the vielle strings 
lightly with easy fingers, even as the Wolf lugged out 
his sword. 

As he advanced, Jehanr\e sprang up and threw 
herself forward, her arms wide apart. 

“ Halt, there ! No brawling here ! ” she cried, 
command in the words. 

“ Hallo ! His damsel again interferes ! ” said 
Conrad, grimly amused. “ Not so fast this time, gay 
bird. Hoch ! Unhood, merlin mine.” 

He snatched at her hood, but could not get it 
off. 

“ Hola, brigand ! ” from Arnaud, lunging at him 
with his sword. 

But the Wolf’s blade twisted under the trovere’s, 
and with that peculiar wrist-bend known to fencers, 
sent it flying across the room. Then he turned on 
Louis, whose hilt caught one instant in the table-edge, 
but that fatal instant Jehanne saved. Just as 
Arnaud’s blade flew wide, she ripped out Boccaccio’s 
sword, and quick as a star falls, she lunged at Conrad, 
getting the point in, just at the base of his throat so 
that it glanced upwards from the mail plate he wore 
under his cotte hardie. 

Quick blood showed, and the Wolf staggering back- 
wards tripped on a chair and fell against Mikel, into 
whom Arnaud, weaponless but for his poignard, 
suddenly charged, butting head downwards like some 
Alpine goat, shutting him up in the middle ! 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 171 


Jehanne’s action had been so quick that Giovanni 
had only been able to gasp, but now his nimble wit 
returned, and with a sweep he had the lamp off the 
table just as Louis got from behind it, and with ready 
foot tripped up young George, who had dashed for 
Jehanne. 

Giovanni had wanted to plunge the place in dark- 
ness, and escape thus, but a lamp by the wall re- 
mained, and next instant he got at it, and blew it out, 
just as George toppled on to Mikel and Conrad, and 
before they could sort themselves, Louis had advanced 
to snatch up Jehanne and rush with her for the door, 
hastily saying : 

“ Forgive me, madonna,” — when, as she turned, her 
mask loosened by the Wolfs clutch, fell, and in that 
second he saw that it had indeed hidden the face of 
Queen Jehanne ! 

He saw this just as Giovanni extinguished the lamp, 
and in the pitch darkness he lifted her, and gaining 
the door set her safely down in the street without, 
ere any of the inn’s folk were aware of aught amiss. 
Arnaud and Boccaccio were there equally quickly, 
and together they rushed up the Vico, and turned 
down a side street too promptly for any pursuit ; and 
indeed, it took the two Hungarians some minutes 
to gain the light and assist the wounded Conrad, so 
that it would have been useless. 

“ Heavens, madonna ! ” said Giovanni to Jehanne, 
as they picked their way down the narrow alley. 
“ Well did I name you 4 Lightning of the World ’ ! 
You shamed us by your speed there — and lo ! you 
even carry my sword yet in your hand.” 

She laughed and handed it to him. As they reached 


172 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


the alley end, giving on the Larga he held up a warning 
hand. 

“ Hist, there, a moment while we peer if the Larga 
be clear ! I marvel they have not tried pursuit ” 

With Arnaud he stepped on to the open space, 
while Jehanne and Louis waited in a convenient door- 
way’s shadow, and once there she breathed deeply 
and said : 

“ Ah, messire ! For once I knew a man’s joy ! To 
be openly sword in hand at a foe’s throat — gladness 
indeed, despite the danger ; for I am on the side of 
the Neapolitans against their foes, even though I am 
of Provence.” 

But Louis seemed not to hear this. A ray of moon- 
light fell between the high buildings and showed her 
face. 

“‘Lightning of the World’ your escort calls you, 
madonna ? ” he said very low. “ Well, — hence- 
forth the world holds for me no other Light ! ” 

She stood there gazing hard at him, all thrilled 
with the strange emphasis he threw into the words, 
unable for the nonce to find a reply : she, Jehanne of 
the Golden Lips, mute thus ! As she wondered, he 
held up her mask he had secured somehow, as they 
dashed away. 

“ Would I might keep this, the cloud which once 
hid my Light ? ” he said. 

She hesitated a moment, doubtful if she could 
screen her face enough with the hood ; but assuming 
consent, he deliberately laid a hand on each of her 
shoulders, with quiet masterful touch, and held her 
so, just as one does a very young girl or child one 
knows very well, a short space. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 173 

Strange place and hour, his mood, and will, con- 
quered all idea of rebuff. She smiled back in his eyes, 
and her lips parted with frank pleasure. 

“ I owe you my life, my mystic Amazon errant,” he 
said, and threw into the phrase once again a world of 
meaning. “ Thanks therefor I cannot offer you 
in poor words — but only in my life’s service — time 
enough in the future for it. The others return, now 
and thus — Good-night, Madonna Forcalquier ! ” rais- 
ing his voice as Arnaud and Boccaccio joined them and 
reported the coast clear. 

“ Have a care of her by the way ! ” he added 
merrily to Giovanni, and raised both her hands 
to his lips ; but as he released them she turned 
sharply. 

“ But I must see you again ! ” she cried, carried 
away on a sudden ; and he answered serenely, and 
even formally : 

“ When and where you will, my voice shall please 
you, madonna,” and so went off with Arnaud. 

Giovanni and Jehanne reached the garden postern 
of the Castel in safety, and he said, stooping to fit 
its key : 

“ In any case, carissima, you cannot this time 
complain you have had a dull night ! ” 

She laughed softly as they entered, and he skipped 
joyfully across the garden beside her, brimful of relief 
at having safely landed his perilous charge home 
again. 

“ But I must have another such ! ” she cried, and 
catching his hand gaily danced a few steps of a pavane 
in the moonlight. 

“ And luckless I thought you would have had 


174 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


enough such brawls ! ” cried he ruefully. “For well 
you know, you fairy piper, that I must always dance 
to any mad tune you may please to whistle ! ” 

And they gained the spiral stair unseen in the 
shadows. 


CHAPTER XII 


The night after her adventure at the Tazza d’Oro, 
Jehanne was in her own room when her sister came in 
to her, and her brow showed a cloud of anxiety which 
made Jehanne wave Filippa from them and ask, as 
the door shut : “ Cara, what is’t ? ” 

Marie sat down, and twisted her hands together. 
“ Sister, I am afraid — there is much secret around 
us now. Know you aught of it ? I had a hint from 
Aunt Catherine that plots weave. But she would not 
say more as yet.” 

“ Nay, I am as dark as you,” returned Jehanne. 
“ But when was Naples ever without a plot of sorts ? 
They brew, they break again — never care.” 

“ Not such as this. Oh, Jehanne dearest, I am 
afraid — I feel that pits yawn about us. What if — we 
have to cede to Hungary ? ” 

She was shaking, and Jehanne was half scornful, 
but hugged her protectingly. “ Is this my brave 
Marie ? Fie ! Aide, aide, Anjou ! I have no fear,” 
she spurred, hiding the creeping doubts in her own 
soul. 

“ Oh, Jehanne, you have no child you fear for — no 

Charles — you know not ” 

“ No, but have I not grandsire’s trust — Naples ? 
What is my own life to that ? Eh, scared bird ! 
Keep you out of aught that comes up, an you fear ! 
i75 


176 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


I know not what brews, but if it is for Naples’s good 
I must join.” 

“ But Charles ” She sank on a stool and laid 

her head on Jehanne’s knee. 

“ Charles can guard himself, and I am not his 
keeper, sweetest.” 

“ Jehanne, is it quite hopeless to make peace with 
Andrea ? At times of late I have not blamed him so 
deep. ’Tis the friar and his men mostly.” 

“ Art a child again to ask ? I have done all I 
cam Go to bed, Marie — you must be weary to talk 
thus.” 

Marie kissed her silently, and flitted out. Before 
Jehanne could give her wonder and doubts rein, 
Filippa was back again, and arraying her in her white 
sendal tiring robe, began plaiting her splendour of 
hair into two long golden plaits. 

A knock at the anteroom door sent in Sancia, very 
puzzled. 

“ Majesty, here is Friar Robert to speak with you. 
He will take no nay.” 

Jehanne swept into the anteroom followed by 
Filippa, but the friar frowned, and said curtly, ere 
she could speak : 

“ Pray dismiss your dame, daughter ! ” 

Jehanne stared. “ Wherefor ? Yet stand just 
without the door, Filippa. Saints ! What is amiss, 
Father, that you come so late ? ” 

Abruptly he sat upon a blue velvet chair, and threw 
back his hood. His face was red, his hands picked 
nervously at his cordelier’s knots. 

“ No pleasing errand ! ” he sniffed. “ I come to 
censure yesterday’s insolence to my master ! ” 

She flushed with annoyance. To rouse her like a 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 177 


naughty child for this ! “ What insolence ? And 

how dared you come thus ? ” 

“ Softly, madonna. Yesterday your husband 
accompanied you for kindness to your giddy folly of 
Capua, and there you made him its mock, when he 
drowsed. My daughter, beware ! Even his kindly 
patience wears short. I say what he, too forbearing, 
will not. You must bend to his will, reform your 
pride, sue his forgiveness, wifely.” 

“ Ha ! ” gasped she. “ You dare ? ” She 

looked about as if seeking a weapon. 

He rose, strode towards her, his stumpy figure erect 
for once, his eyes glaring strangely. She recoiled, but 
before she reached the inner door he had her by the 
wrist and dimly she heard : 

“ Hear, Queen ! Twice have you had warning of 
serious sort ; now comes a last caution ! You live in 
lightness, sinful folly, disobedience to Church and 
husband. Judgment is at hand ! Abate your sinful 
pride, sue Andrea for mercy while you have yet time. 
Yea, toss stiff your neck, lower not your proud head ! 
You are Queen, you are hemmed in by your guards, 
by your fine lovers, and wantons ! But in the hour 
of the wrath of Heaven, will one cleave to you ? 
Your throne totters — avert it by the strong prop I 
offer you, in your husband’s arms ! Consent to his 
crowning ! Let word go to Hungary to-morrow, and 
so save your fall — which comes else ! ” 

She rubbed her eyes with the hand she had wrenched 
free. Incredible insolence ! Eh, this horrible little 
brown-frocked wretch ! Her anger surged, and she 
did what maddened him worse than any blow — 
stretched her arms above her head sleepily. 

“ And ’twas for this fine tirade you kept me from 

N 


178 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


rest ? You might have spared yourself, Father. My 
barons act for me. I cannot change my mind every 
day, and can do no more for the Prince than I have 
done already. Leave me now ; I am tired.” 

He lost all prudence, and with an ugly scowl, shook 
his fist at her. 

“So be it! You flout my advice, you defy 
heaven ! Beware, Lot’s wife ! Sodom and Gomor- 
rah flaunted in their day ! Repent ! ” 

With a bound he was out of the door, leaving her 
standing stricken still as the Pillar of Salt of his 
insolent comparison. 

She found her voice to tell Filippa to go away to 
rest, and then every vestige of sleepiness driven far 
from her, she knelt by the window thinking in a 
whirl. 

She had defied the friar, but her alarm was ram- 
pant, her suspicions confirmed. So Marie’s instinctive 
forebodings were right ! A counter-plot to the 
Empress’s hinted one was afoot too. The friar had 
drawn the shroud from the skeleton of open defiance, 
and it waved its bony hands actively menagant at 
her. Andrea’s frothy spleen had never held half the 
venom that his minion’s mien had held to-night. The 
memory of his rough grip on her wrist reddened her 
with shame in the dusk. 

It brought her weakness home rudely, for, shear 
away the spell of her beauty, and awe that hedges a 
Queen, and what was she ? A weak woman — a toy 
who might be thrust into a convent — set aside ! Was 
that Andrea’s intent ? Yet the friar, in his scathing 
spite, had told one truth at least, she thought bitterly. 
Which of her friends could she truly lean upon ? 
Which loved her, which her sceptre ? She went over 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 179 


their list with a melancholy patience. Empress 
Catherine. Well, yes ; she loved her a little, else the 
long years of sympathy and caressing were lies. But 
as a strong arm, no stronger than her own ! No help 
there, in war. Duchess Agnes ? A soft purring 
kitten, frightened at a blow. Marie ? To-night had 
shown — mother-bird afraid for her chick ! Charles — 
ambition too strong for reliance. Robert and Philippe 
of Taranto ? Butterflies. Filippa, Sancia, Berto ? 
Dog’s dumb, faithful love, no protection against 
Hungary’s might. Sanseverino, Caracciolo, des 
Baux ? Lovers of the power of Anjou, not of her- 
self, Jehanne. Marzano ? Ay, here was one faithful 
soul — and she smiled. But could he, and Cavaillon, 
yet another true man, ward off the brewing tempest ? 

Then, Amaury ? Ah, here was most uncertitude ! 
His love ? O most balancing question ! Herself, or 
the crown ? Passion only, or true love of her soul ? 
If he it were who saved Naples now, what after ? He 
would take the reins, and while keeping her safe, be 
her master ! Dare she call on him, and risk this ? 
Then swiftly flitted up the face of Vivien de Chartres 
the trovere, and strange thrills therewith. He 
answered her question of Amaury in one swift word. 
No ! She feared the Red Count, but with a fear poles 
apart from that fear of man which springs from 
adoration in a woman’s heart — one which hurt her 
pride to feel. Strong liking, not love for Amaury. 
Then hot behind came the thought : If this Vivien 
had been in his place ? He was but a trovere, she 
mused, but in no other man save in King Robert had 
she felt that sense of confidence, of sure knowledge of 
strong power. He was a man who might be king a 
man of steel, a sure defence. Why was he but a 

N 2 


180 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 

singer ? Then dead King Robert’s kindly old smile 
rose before her, and filled her eyes with tears. Ay, 
that was the truest love of her life, but she had it no 
more. He lay in Santa Chiara ; she was fighting her 
battles here. She longed for his counsel, his support, 
and choking sobs mastered her and drove back for 
the moment the image of the trovere, which had driven 
out Amaury’s. 

She knelt before Giotto’s exquisite little picture of 
the Divine Mother, in her narrow oratory in the recess 
by the window. 

“ Mother of Mercy ! Holy Knower of Sorrows ! ” 
she prayed. “ Thou who didst endure scorn of the 
world, slights of kinsfolk, terrors of flight — Thou seest 
my lone dreads. Send me aid or strength in myself 
to meet my enemies.” 

Then she sank forward, her head on the prie-dieu 
rail, and more wild thought ran riot in her mind. 
She never knew how long she knelt in that long medit- 
ation, wherein the thing which came oftenest was 
her unknown knight’s memory. Bright moonlight 
flooded the room, making the shrine-light dim and 
low ; the night was very still, the whole Castel slept 
by now. She knelt on, occasionally breaking her 
vigil by a fresh murmur of prayer. 

Then suddenly she raised her head and listened 
intently. In the stillness rose the Voice of her dreams, 
restrained from its full soaring, yet every word 
crystal-clear, divinely sweet, each note flung upward 
a perfect rounded pearl of song. It stole into her 
soul and filled it with a peace like some weird old spell 
of a wizard’s harp ; she knew then the inner meaning 
of the word en-chant, to sing away the senses, and it 
awoke in her a swift response to its witchery. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS I8J 


Roughly Englished the words ran : 

“ High in Our Ladye’s diadem of stars. 

My Love’s soul glowed like to the ruby’s fire. 

To clasp her for a space behind earth’s bars 
I wearied Mary with my high desire. 

Then Heaven’s Queen inclined her glorious head — 

Down fell my Ruby like a darting flame ! 

Then all my soul was stricken stiff with dread : 

A churl had seized her, ere I could her claim ! 

Then with my sword I reft her from his hand — 

But in that space, her brief earth-hour had flown ! 

Beside me but one moment might she stand. 

Then soared aloft — Our Ladye claimed her own ! ” 

Jehanne looked from the window, on the long white 
terrace, sentinelled by its tall marble statues, lighted 
only by the brilliant southern stars, but at first 
saw no one. 

She knew she was safe to be unheard of any, for 
above her rooms were her ladies’, and rarely a night 
passed without a serenade for one of them. It was 
an etiquette with them never to look out for each 
other’s singers, as the gallant always sent a note to 
his fair one in the afternoon before, so as to prevent 
embarrassment and mistakes. 

What magic sent her trovere thus to-night ? Had 
Our Ladye thus answered her prayer for aid ? She 
leaned from the window panting, thrilling with fierce 
excitement, straining eyes, ears, to see him — but the 
dusk veiled the terrace. 

Then what had seemed one of the statues wrapped 
in a grey mantle, like the colour of the others, stepped 
from the balcony, and advanced close below the 
window. Quite low, but thrilling with irresistible 
command, came two lines : 

(< Viene da me ! 

Io te attende ! ” 


182 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Madness caught her suddenly as a gale of wind. 
She must see, speak with him now, at all risks. Last 
night she had felt his strange glamour over her — to- 
night it called her with strong voice, and she must go. 
She never halted to reason, but thrust her feet into 
her silver slippers, and gathered the white robe 
about her. 

She was quite alone, for Filippa’s room lay beyond 
the antechamber, and the head of the spiral stair 
which wound down to the Chapel was in a small 
empty room next to it. From the Chapel she would 
pass into the deserted Audience Sala, whose long 
windows led on to the terrace. 

Cat-like silent, she felt her way in the dark down the 
spiral, and undid the Sala window-catch equally 
noiselessly. The shallow steps brought her out upon 
the terrace. 

The tall grey figure came up and, wordless, took 
both her hands in a clasp which set every pulse 
a-thrill. 

“ How dared you come here ? Where for ? ” she 
faltered awkwardly. 

4 4 How ? — eh ? I called the Queen’s soul, not her 
Majesty — and I came as the wind does — over all 
barriers,” he answered with the ease of a prince in 
the tone. She caught at this. 

44 Santissima Maria ! You are no simple trovere ! 
Who are you, that have wizardry to bring me down 
hither ? Man or sprite ? ” 

He laughed. 44 So asked sweet Psyche one other 
night long ago, but I am not Eros ; and when Psyche 
knew him the discovery was fatal. Take warning 1 ” 

44 1 must know ” 

44 Sith you will, my name is Louis, a knight of 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 183 

France, and if you set store by the like, my folk sat 
at Charlemagne’s table 

“ Why called you thus ? ” she cut him short, her 
surge of emotion dazing her sharper reason. 

Then came the most incredible climax, swift, fierce, 
unmatched in stories of man’s audacity. He drew 
her into his arms, raised her unresisting mouth, and 
kissed her with a kiss which seemed to draw her soul 
through her lips, fiercely, surely, as the hot sunrays 
draw to themselves a rose’s dew ! 

“ There is but one way of reaching the stars,” he 
said calmly, as a response at vespers. “ So I climbed 
up — thus ! For this I came, and — you cannot be 
angry. Ay, try ! ” He was magnificent in his assur- 
ance. 

She drew away from him, slowly, quivering from 
brow to feet, yet truly anger was weakest of the senses 
swaying her, ere the bond of passive stupefaction 
snapped. 

She hid her face in her hands, tumult raging. O 
insanity ! Mad dream ! She, Jehanne of Naples, 
standing there in the night, enduring mute as a lily 
a strange knight’s victorious kiss ! And yet — he was 
the man of her Vision, the conqueror then, as now ! 

He had thrown back his hood, and the moon, come 
from its cloud, showed the features she had pictured, 
the masterful gleam in the sea-hued eyes, the proud, 
half-scornful smile. 

She stood with nervously locked hands, the inward 
storm blowing wilder with every slipping second of 
that silence, its gusts tossing her resolves, her scruples, 
hither and thither. 

“ I will leave you now,” he said simply, and turned 
as if to go. 


184 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


She snatched at this most skilful lure even as he 
had hoped. 

“ No ! no ! Stay ! I must speak more with you. 
Know you what you have done ? You have kissed 
me — Me — Jehanne, the Queen ! Nay, nay ! Stand 
back ! Wizard ! You have glamoured me ! Ah ! — ” 

He had her again upon his heart, and this time her 
head sank helplessly upon his shoulder as she stam- 
mered out, hearing her own words dully as through 
some closed door : 

“ Oh, I am possessed — bewi^j hed ! Let me go ! ” 

He clasped her only the closer, saying low and fast : 

“ Nay, my beloved, it is well. You are my Star, 
and I have climbed to you for the moment of the song. 
You in your soul resist me not, for when twin spirits 
meet in Paradise they know each other, as I knew you 
at Capua — ay, and as you guessed me, last night ! 
Be honest, adored ! You know ! Yet fear not ; you 
run no danger, for to-morrow I ride hence. . . . But 
to-night, this hour is ours ! ” 

Again there was that brooding silence, and then 
Jehanne spoke, very rapidly : 

“ Beloved ! Are you man or spirit to thus force 
my whole will, my whole pride from me ? Seigneur ! 
Why speak of love to me, who must forswear it ? To 
one chained as I was, ere I knew by my grandsire, by 
my state — bound — set high upon a throne of ice ! — 
’tis cruel — cruel ! Ah, why have you come ? — more 
pain for us both to know — to part — to suffer. It is 
wrong — wrong ’ ’ 

But while she desperately called reason, recusant 
pride, to aid, love was mounting the inner barriers of 
her soul, and Louis’s next argument hoisted the 
immortal archer the higher to the attack. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 185 


“ Such bonds as yours man sanctified, not right, 
nor love ! I have naught to do with such world-ties, 
for I only seek your soul’s true reply to mine now. 
Kings are not immortal ! I adore you ! Say thus 
also ! ” He held out both hands, and as one drawn 
by a magnet she put hers into them, and stayed thus 
one thrilling space wherein she felt his strange glamour 
fast melting the last icicle of her prudence, and then 
boldly and deliberately she linked her arm through 
his and drew him to a marble bench in the deeper 
shadow by the wall. he would have her hour, taste 
joy now, if the Cast el fell upon her for it afterwards, 
she told herself recklessly. Then, as in her strange 
dream his lips met hers, and a fierce joy blotted out 
the whole world. . . . 

It was an hour later when she lifted her head from 
his shoulder and asked, as one waking from a trance, 
a puzzled question : 

“ Beloved, what meant you by the immortality of 
kings ? You are not of my Council ; yet they, 
too, hint ever thus of late — ha, saints ! It spreads 
a plotting net to snare me to — my freedom,” she said 
strangely. 

But his reply came steadily and with open truth 
in the tone. 

“No, dearest ! I know naught of any inner state- 
craft touching it. Only very certainly, the hot hate 
of a city is like to throw down a tryant. My Ruby 
of the Star, why mar this sweet hour by this ? Think 
only now, that our spirits are one despite the 
grasp of the churl. His rough clasp may indeed 
part the torches of our bodies, but their flames, 
our souls soar high, and mingle in the air despite 
him ! ” 


186 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


She smiled up at him radiantly, absolutely careless 
of aught but the moment’s utter bliss. 

“ My Louis, yea ! I will not remember the dawn 
till I must ! Only tell me again — the blessed divine 
truth : You love me — love me ! — love me ! ” 

And so they sat entranced, heart to heart, with 
voices that mingled softly, and pulses that beat 
enchanted measures together, till the dawn’s finger- 
tips crept up to extinguish the star’s faint burning 
lamps. 

Boccaccio’s foreboding had come true ; Queen 
Jehanne’s soul was awake at last ! 


CHAPTER XIII 

<( Criant des mains, la paix aux bandes et aux troupes 
Mais fichant cependant les armes sur les pouppes.” 

Nostradamus. 

Jehanne had no clear memories of how she stag- 
gered up the spiral stair to her room, after Louis had 
kissed her a lingering farewell, and left her standing 
by the long terrace window. 

Her endurance snapped as she reached her room, and 
she fainted dead away, fortunately on her bed, so that 
Sancia, coming in early, thought her asleep. 

Then she roused herself to the new day and calmer 
thought. 

Santa Chiara ! Had it not been for a plain gold 
ring on the chain round her neck with 44 Toujours ” 
engraved on it, she could almost have thought it all 
a wild dream. But it was true 

Her knight ! Her longed-for, splendid knight ! 
Beside him Amaury seemed a dangerous condottiero, 
the others silken popinjays ! 

What though he had bidden her farewell now ? 
He would come back — he must ; and meanwhile she 
had him in the spirit always with her — she could 
revive in her soul their wonderful hour together, 
recall the magic of his voice, his touch, his strange 
conquering power. 

Thus she thought ignorantly, not guessing as yet 
187 


188 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


that his loss would, with time, like an untended 
wound, gape wider and set hard till it would be agony 
at last. 

His memory strengthened her courage, her resolve 
to cede nothing more to her foes — blotted the thought 
of the friar’s threat a little. Perhaps things were not 
so grave, perhaps 

Then as the thought of Andrea struck her sharply, 
she buried her face in the pillow, twisting her hands 
together in keenest pain. 

Her husband ! That clod, that dolt was bound to 
her by law and church ! He held her honour captive 
— he barred her from her Knight ! 

She could not face the thought, the fact which she 
had resolutely thrust aside last night, when she had 
snatched her hour of joy. So she called Filippa 
hastily to dress her, and distract her thoughts from 
the maddening round whereon they ran. But the 
quick leaps of her heart kept turning her cheeks 
alternate white and scarlet. But resolutely she 
checked her musing. 

Presently came Ithamar of Argos from the Empress, 
asking Jehanne to come across to Palazzo di Taranto, 
to examine and choose from some embroideries sent 
from Constantinople ; Jehanne wondered why she had 
not sent them over to Castel Nuovo, but guessing at 
more behind, dismissed Ithamar with an assent. 

Jehanne let Filippa put on her morning gown of 
pale green velvet, with silver rope-girdle, broke her 
fast on frittura of fish and bread, with a draught of 
Cyprian wine, and then sauntered across the sunny 
square to the Imperial Palazzo with its splendid 
marble fa9ade, and its carvings of dancing fauns, and 
linked laurel festoons. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 189 


Empress Catherine lounged upon a wide Eastern 
couch, clad in soft white sendal, with violet at hem and 
throat, holding a small tambour frame with idle 
fingers. She stared at the wall, frescoed (curiously 
enough) with pictures of Deborah dancing before 
Israel with her timbrel, faultlessly attired in Italian 
costume of the day. 

Great thoughts turned in Catherine’s keen mind, as 
she thought of the hurried council held on the dark 
Bay, by night. 

It had been the strangest of conferences, but none the 
less deadly because velvet had partly masked its steel. 

Firstly Amaury, supported at need by Bertrand, 
had laid the impending danger before them, and 
declared that something must be done at once. For his 
part, he suggested that Andrea should be seized quiet- 
ly, and hurried off to Altamura and kept there during 
the Queen’s pleasure, or until he agreed to reign 
quietly as Prince Consort only. 

This Marzano heard with a frown, the brothers 
Artois and Sanseverino with angry denunciations of 
Hungary. Filippa and Sancia had said nothing but 
their minds worked faster than mills. 

The meeting grew hotter — sword-hilts were clutched 
angry oaths ran low and fierce. Then some one 
(Catherine could not catch who) let fly the prisoned 
thought- vulture : “ Kill the rat and make safe ! ” 

No one at first replied, but none contradicted it, for 
they were (as Amaury had foreseen) all very closely of 
a mind. 

It was like a deadly game of chess with veiled pawns, 
close veiled as yet, for each felt that after Andrea’s 
removal they would have time for all their moves 
among each other’s squares. 


190 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


The Empress’s pawn was Prince Robert, Bertrand’s 
the County of Provence, Terlizzi’s avarice, Marzano’s, 
the only honest one, pure patriotism, Amaury’s the 
crown, and all the rest their own ennoblement to 
principalities. 

No one for one moment believed Amaury’s war-cry 
of simple patriotism, but none said so, for they were 
glad of him as temporary ringleader. Marzano mis- 
trusted him most perhaps, but the wary old warrior 
resolved to use him now, and afterwards, should he be 
dangerously presumptuous, a quarrel with him was 
easily picked. 

“ See here, lords ! ” growled Terlizzi in his surly 
way. “ If we do shut him up he will be for ever a 
jack-in-the-box, rising always awkwardly ! Fever 
is bad enough in Autumn ! ” 

“ No, no ! We are not snakes, Terlizzi ! ” said 
Amaury, cunning as Lucifer. 

“ Cannot we contrive to have him commit high 
treason and undergo a formal trial ? ” said the 
Empress. 

“ Highness, your wisdom is great,” said Amaury. 
“ But when the highest Courts had condemned him 
you forget that the Queen’s too gentle spirit might 
prompt her to revoke the sentence. Yet imprison- 
ment seems the one way — for if we banish him, He 
will go plotting vengeance in all the corners of the 
earth ! ” 

“We should have Hungary thundering at Altamura, 
if it leaked where we had him,” said Sanseverino. 
“ And then what ? European intervention sought by 
Ludwig, and the Queen forced to free him. No, 
comrades ! ” 

“ One point you all forget ! ” said Bertrand des 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 191 


Baux abruptly. “ We must have the Queen’s author- 
isation ere we do anything whatever ! She must give 
us leave to — er — imprison him, first, and by degrees 
we can go — farther. Till we have her views we must 
do no more. I look to the Empress to persuade her 
that it is for the general good ! ” 

“ Leave her to me ! ” said Catherine, drawing her 
cloak closer, and shivering slightly, for the breeze was 
fresh and the felucca plunging heavily. So the con- 
spiracy put to land again, each member of it feeling 
he could do no more that night. 

Yet as Catherine waited Jehanne’s coming next 
morning, her brows were knitted. Robert, her vain, 
courteous, good-looking son, had never seemed so 
unlikely a tool before ! Would Jehanne, once freed 
from her irksome bonds of Andrea, listen to his vapid 
suit in any hurry. The Red Count was in the field 
felt Catherine, and dangerous as he was, still a most 
desirable ally, a sure sword against Hungary. Ah 
well, she must let him act now, and afterwards when 
the work was done, Andrea removed, the kingdom 
saved, she could compass some fall for him, and thus 
leave Jehanne free, and to be completely swayed by 
herself. She would then have her ambition of being 
de facto if not de jure ruler of Naples, Provence and 
the two Sicilies ! Ah, why had Robert not got his 
brother Louis’s fascinating personality, without his 
dangerously strong will ? Louis as King would be 
no use whatever to his too-loving mother ! He would 
be incorruptible, immovably just, not to be swayed 
by any influence at all. Better no king-nominal at 
all than he ! Luckily he was safe in Taranto, and 
abjured Naples, and all the others, from Marzano to 
Filippa, were easily handled either by Jehanne or her- 


192 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


self. So that the Empress was smiling again by the 
time Jehanne entered, bringing with her a wave of 
sweet fresh morning air. Her step was lighter, her 
bearing gayer than it had been for long. 

Catherine carefully unfolded to her what Guy had 
overheard ; she spoke also of the meeting they had 
held, and its resolution to imprison Andrea, but to 
her aunt’s surprise and relief Jehanne heard it 
calmly. 

Hear you my tale now, Aunt ! Yours explains 
what the friar meant ! ” 

She related the friar’s insolence, and her reply to 
him, but somehow, even while she spoke on so serious 
a theme, she kept herself scarce moved by it. Her 
hidden joy, her precious secret glowed so warm 
within her, that it made all ordinary troubles seem 
unreal — far away. 

Ten minutes silence fell between them. Catherine 
broke it by — 

“ Well, what of my tidings ? Ma cherie, your time 
is scanty, King Ludwig’s messenger may come any 
day. What will you reply to the barons ? You know 
what hangs at stake.” 

But Jehanne was musing dreamily. 

“ I ponder much, Aunt. Is there no other way ? 
This one means war, and all its terrors most cer- 
tainly, and then I mislike the method — it seems 
ignoble ” 

“You will mislike things still more, an you act 
not ! ” said Catherine very tartly. “You are not 
alone in the matter either — consider your people under 
these Hunnish demons’ yoke ! Wake up ! (What 
ails the girl ? Dreamy shilly-shally is not like her 
at all !) ” 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 193 


“ Can we trust all our men ? ” said Jehanne, deep 
consideration in her eyes, 44 1 fear Savoy for some 
things. Yet I know we must act — the friar’s insol- 
ence was warning enough. But oh, how I dislike 
consenting — I ’ 5 

Her conscience was pricking her deeper than ever, 
because she felt that Louis’s influence urged her 
against Andrea, and raised a new scruple which her 
honour fought. 

44 1, too, doubt Savoy,” said Catherine. 44 Yet he is 
indispensable in this crisis. He is trusted of both the 
Council and the soldiers — we must let him help us — 
come, Jehanne — you must consent. One would think 
’twas for Andrea’s head they asked you to sign. It 
is only to have him quietly seized and clapped into 
Altamura one night. Then we will banish his rascally 
minister the friar, and Conrad Wolf’s troop, and when 
Andrea comes to his senses we can restore him to his 
Duchy of Calabria, and he can be a quiet figure at 
your Councils. But you will be your own mistress 
again, for ever ! Come ! Decide ! ” 

Jehanne still hesitated, weighing matters in her 
mind, trying to grasp the future — the consequences, 
the riot which would follow her assent. She suddenly 
saw the expression in her aunt’s eyes, and strange 
doubts pricked her, but she had no time to meditate. 

The room they occupied was on the piano nobile 
of Palazzo di Taranto, and two of its marble-balconied 
windows overlooked the 'square between it and Castel 
Nuovo. From the great square rose many mingled 
sounds, tramp of horses, gruff commands, running 
feet, doors banging afar off, voices accumulating into 
a steady hum — ending in the sharp blare of a trumpet, 
too urgent to be disregarded longer. In their dis- 
o 


194 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


cussion they had not noted the beginning of the noise, 
but before Jehanne could reach the window Filippa 
rushed in, her usual stern calm broken, her thin 
lipped mouth babbling with haste to get the words 
out. 

“ Highnesses, the end has come ! We are defeated 
—lost ! ” 

Sending rank to the winds, she caught an arm of 
Empress and Queen, and fairly dragged them to the 
window, where they stood gasping. 

Half Naples was met in the Larga — the space before 
Porta Reale was lined into a smaller square with the 
men of Conrad Wolf and Nicholas Ungaro. On the 
very drawbridge of the Porta sat on his white destrier, 
Andrea, and around him on bridge and square every 
Hungarian in the kingdom. Friar Robert held his 
rein, the Ban of Croatia his helm on a cushion, like a 
crown, and Niccolo di Milazzo, his Italian notary, was 
reading loudly from a document. Fragments drifted 
up clearly. 

4 4 Andrea, by the grace of God, King of this realm, 
here already proclaimed, summons all knights, barons, 
and nobles, to attend on the morrow to do him 
homage ” 

44 Eh, by the Blood ! ” swore Filippa in a wild whis- 
per, 44 King — he ! ” 

It broke the horror which held Jehanne. Before 
Catherine could stop her she was out on the 
balcony. 

But for Niccolo’s reading the Larga was quiet, 
the crowd listening in anxious silence. Out rang 
Jehanne’ s tones, clear and strong as a clarion over a 
jay’s gabble. 

44 Andrea, by the grace of Hungary, King ! But by 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 195 


the grace of God and of Anjou, Duke of Calabria and 
Prince of Salerno only ! Duke of Calabria, you have 
committed high treason ! ” 

The effect was electric. Every head turned to the 
balcony. There stood their Queen, her hand out- 
stretched, her head thrown back in haughty anger. 
The situation was tense with fate. Friar Robert said 
something, and Andrea pointed to the window with 
his sword. 

“ Neapolitans, the Queen is mad ! She knows I am 
King henceforth — Herald, read on ! ” 

“ People of Naples, am I so mad as to let a foreign 
yoke fall upon you ? The Duke usurps my power and 
your liberties ! Naples ! Provence ! Will you let 
Hungary triumph over you, resistless ? ” 

But there was hardly a Provencal or Neapolitan 
soldier present, and only a few of the Court who had 
flown thither as the news ran. 

The whole coup d'etat had been excellently planned. 
Unsuspectingly, Bertrand des Baux had taken his 
troop exercising to Pozzuoli, and upon the Queen’s 
Guard in their Castel Nuovo quarters, the key of its 
gate had been turned. Their shouts and hammerings 
to break out were even now audible on the Larga. 

So soon as the messenger from King Ludwig rode in, 
the Prince had rallied his men and seized the Larga, 
and the Queen’s barons were taken unawares. Had 
Jehanne not been with the Empress she would have 
been prisoner in her own room. Where, oh, where 
was Amaury ? Marzano ? 

But the citizens were moving again, once the first 
shock worn off. For a moment they hesitated as 
Jehanne appealed, then the roar went up — 

“ Giovanna ! Nostra Giovanna ! Regina nostra 1 


196 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Sempre Giovanna ! Accidenti ai Ungheresi ! A 
basso i traditori ! ” 

They pressed forward against the Hungarian horse, 
brandishing sticks, daggers. Andrea grew white 
with anger. Was the woman a witch to sway them 
thus ? 

“ Down with disloyal beasts ! ” he cried. “ Conrad, 
disperse the crowd ! ” 

The line of Hungarian lances dropped and advanced. 

Women shrieked, children bawled, but the men’s 
blood was up. They were citizens and disorganised, 
but they were the fierce men of Naples, and their 
pride held them stiff. In one moment the audience 
was an army, the Larga a raging battlefield. 

Jehanne’s dismayed cry at seeing her people ridden 
down was lost in the tumult. She stood blankly 
raging, all a-fire, craving one thing only, to be down 
there, sword in hand herself, to get at the treacherous 
throats which had stolen her kingdom. 

As she stood fearfully fascinated, watching, the 
door of the room behind her was splintered open. 
Filippa and the Empress screamed, and a brutal hand 
dragged her forcibly from the balcony. It was the 
Ban of Wallachia, all the veneer gone, all the smothered 
hate uncovered. 

“ Stop your speeches, Madame ! ” he said roughly, 
still grasping her. “You must no longer inflame the 
people against their King ! ” 

“ You unbounded ruffian ! ” thundered the Empress. 
“ Let go of the Queen ! By St. George you shall pay 
for this — you Magyar brute ! ” 

Jehanne twisted herself free, then faced him with a 
mien at which even he quailed. 

“ You have dared ! ” she said, but without raising 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 197 


her voice. “ Go ! You have no right here ! This is 
the Empress of Constantinople ! Will France and the 
the Empire, her relations, overlook your insolence to 
her, whatever betides me ? Go ! ” 

A terrific yell rent the air. The Ban strode to 
the window, exclaimed, and rushed away as he had 
come. 

Count Amaury at head of five hundred Savoyards 
had ridden from a street end, and charged the enemy. 
Seeing this, Andrea’s trumpets rang truce, and he 
advanced to parley, but ere they could speak another 
cry rose — 

“ Au hasard ! 

Balthasar ! ” 

and the burly figure of Hugues des Baux, heading 
another hastily gathered force, pushed from another 
street. 

Roger Sanseverino, sprung from fate knows where, 
leaped on the Larga’s high fountain, adroitly turning 
off the water, yet getting drenched withal. 

“ Neapolitans make no truce with those who insult 
their Queen. Where is she ? Hasten into the 
Palazzo ! She may be dead by yon fiend’s hands 
by now ! ” 

The mob with one movement besieged the main 
gate with hasty impotence. Seeing their beloved 
Queen in the Ban’s hands had carried away the last 
rags of their patience. Amaury forced his destrier 
through the press to the window of an anteroom, 
where cowered a scared servant. 

“ Open — the side postern — ’tis I, Savoy ! ” he said, 
and was obeyed. 

The pounding on the gate went on in fitful bursts, 
yells and curses rose ever louder. The Hungarians 


198 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


had withdrawn across the Larga, and waited while 
Andrea cursed and fumed. 

“ Eh, by St. Anna ! They’ll flay the Ban alive 
if they catch him,” said Friar Robert. 

Andrea swore. 

“ What recks that, so long as we catch her ? ” 

Amaury had dashed into the room where Jehanne 
silently waited the end. 

“ Oh, if we could but have been warned of this 
proclamation ! ” he cried. 

Jehanne flung up her head, fiercely frowning. 

“ I will defy him to the last now ! He stole my 
right — I must save my people ” 

But a .light had flashed back to Amaury’s mind, 
and showed him a desperate way. 

“No, my Queen ! He shall never hold your 
sceptre, but you must trick him into thinking so, to 
gain time I Trust me ! I implore you — act quickly. 
Cry now to the people that you will see the Prince 
and arrange matters, then in the Council give sanction 
to his being crowned ! ” 

A terrific cheer rose as the gate broke, and the mob 
streamed up the stairs, demanding the Queen. The 
splintered room-door filled with faces, and a great, 
burly fruit-seller spoke eagerly. 

“ Most glorious Majesty, are you safe ? Tell us 
that the devils have not harmed you ” 

Jehanne turned. 

“ Yea, I am safe — safe ! ” though her voice shook 
slightly. “ I can see from his actions that the Prince 
is distraught. Give me time and I will arrange matters 
to satisfy all. My brave men, I thank you — You 
show me that I can indeed rely upon my people in 
time of need l ” 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 199 


Cheers went up. She stepped from the balcony and 
repeated the words, but their effect was even more 
amazing than that of her previous speech. 

Andrea rose in his saddle and shouted : 

“ Neapolitans, the Queen is no longer in power to 
make arrangements ! Heed not.” 

“ No ! ” yelled Roger Sanseverino. “ Then, be it 
our task to make them ! To me Naples ! Charge 
the dogs ! ” brandishing his sword. 

“ Au hasard ! Balthasar ! ” boomed Des Baux’s 
deep note. 

The lance points dropped, the mob rushed, when 
suddenly the friar whispered to the Prince, who 
sheathed his blade and screamed out — 

“ Hold ! The Queen shall do whatever she wills ! 
No harm to her ! ” 

But the mob jeered. 

“ Keep then your word, you damned usurper ! ” 
cried a tall butcher, whose cleaver had done much 
damage. “ Touch her little finger, and we have your 
head ! No frighting her to humour your whimsies ! 
Take oath by San Gennaro’s blessed bones to keep 
troth ! ” 

The situation was tense as a strung bow. Andrea 
saw his small force, Sanseverino, Des Baux’s troop, 
the swarming Larga. If they rushed he was lost 
now, and next week the ten thousand men and 
his brother would arrive. He could well afford to 
wait. 

“ By San Gennaro I swear it ! ” he cried in his reedy 
scream. “ The Queen shall be free, and no hand of 
mine shall be laid on her ! ” 

The Larga raised a last deafening shout, and Jehanne 
descended, mounted Amaury’s destrier and rode into 


200 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Porta Reale, her dress hem, her very steed’s mane, 
kissed by a hundred adoring lips, as she went. 

Jehanne found the next hour one long nightmare. 
She went to her rooms, while dire confusion reigned in 
the Castel. 

Triumphant Andrea was closeted with his ministers ; 
the lesser fry of Conrad Wolf and company drank 
steadily to their King’s health in their quarters. 
Amaury’s conspirators were all there, yet dared not 
risk reunion, though he, Marzano and Sanseverino, 
did walk in the Council Hall awhile together, but 
even as they talked, a small cortege of six monks 
and a tall Abbot rode into the inner cortile on 
mules. 

Filippa knocked at Jehanne’s door. 

“ An envoy from the Holy Father — will you see 
him, cuore mia ? ” 

“Yes, but up here. I would be alone to read the 
letter.” 

She was sure a calamity impended, and dared risk 
no onlookers. 

Ceremoniously the Abbot presented the Pope’s 
letter, sealed in a silver tube, and withdrew to the 
antechamber. She waded through its weighty 
Latin, clasped her hands over her painful heart, and 
stood like a woman of stone. 

Pope Clement had taken the Hungarian bribe, and 
now ordered “ his dear daughter in Christ ” to con- 
sent “ for the good of her kingdom ” to the coronation 
of “ her dear lord and husband Andrea ! ” and ended 
with the item that the Papal Legate, Bishop Guillaume 
Amici of Chartres, would in a few days bring her the 
Holy Father’s blessing and lay the crown upon the 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 201 


Prince’s head. The crown upon his head ! King 
Robert’s golden circle, which Americ de Chastelleux’s 
hands had placed on her own brow ! Never ! 

Then realising that to cry Never, was useless, when 
the Pope her last ally, had failed her, she stared with 
glazed eyes at the dumb walls. 

News, in a palace, runs like fire through stubble. 

Amaury, taking a letter as excuse, went up and found 
the Papal messenger with Filippa in the anteroom. 
She having gathered his mission from his too confident 
lips, was about to deny Amaury entrance, when 
Jehanne appeared at the inner door. 

“My Chamberlain will attend to your comfort. 
Father — I will give you my reply later ! ” she said, 
and Filippa took the Abbot downstairs. 

Wordless Jehanne gave Amaury the letter. 

“ All is lost,” she said as he read it. 

“ No ! All is saved ! Oh, my Queen, can you not 
see that the Prince’s folly has cut his own throat ? 
After this morn’s work, no one will question whatever 
you may do ! The Empress told me hastily as we 
left her Palazzo that you knew of our conclave and 
agreed with us. You took me for your friend that 
blessed day in the arbour — trust me now and follow 
my counsel, for I see a way to save the Crown. Slay 
me if I err. We must lull our enemies into thinking 
themselves safe. This letter from the Pope is the 
very chance. Call the Council of State and tell them 
you have decided to concede the Crown to your hus- 
band. Show reluctance to hide deeper aims well, 
but cede. Then while his party are festively prepar- 
ing for the crowning, we will pounce upon and carry 
him off to Altamura ! You will then write to the 
Pope, go to him, if need be, and appeal to France for 


202 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


aid, whose king I know certainly will give it. Des 
Baux, Marzano and I can keep order here.” 

He knelt, and she searched him with a long gaze, 
but could only see her faithful servant in him. His 
face was eager but not passionate then. As she 
twined her hands nervously together the right wrist 
winced, as she felt still the bruise of the Ban’s rough 
grip. 

Impetuously she held out both hands, and, as he 
pressed and kissed them, said : 

“ Santa Maria speed us all, brave friend ! Ay, I 
will do thus — for afterwards you can tell me more 
of the secret conclave. Go now, assemble the State 
Council ! ” 

Amaury left the room, triumph singing in his ears. 

Three miserable dark days were passed. Never 
till now had Jehanne realised how bitter the 
bread of humiliation can be, nor how keen the 
pangs of being unjustly judged — even when the 
bread be leavened by the fact that the humiliation 
is but assumed for a while ; at the moment it is quite 
as bad. It reached its bitterest when at the dismal 
gloom-stricken Council Cavaillon’s eyes turned from 
hers for the first time. 

The white misery on the faces of the other lords, 
old and trusted of King Robert, or young and who 
had trusted in her, haunted her like accusing ghosts, 
as she pronounced the sentence which gave her 
rights to Hungary. 

When the Council’s business was known, the town 
rioted turbulently, and street and soldiery brawls 
were common ; only the Court, faithful yet, kept 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 203 


swords and tongues sheathed, while the boiars aired 
their new importance in the Castel. Though their 
Queen sold them, she was still their Queen, and when 
she said peace with Andrea’s men, they followed suit 
loyally, even when their fingers itched to slap the 
foe’s insolent cheeks. Besides, with a Southerner’s 
quickness at a hint, they each noted the certain 
assured calm of the Des Baux and Savoy’s manners, 
and bided their time. On the third day came another 
envoy from King Ludwig. 

The siege of Zara was proving far longer than he 
had thought, and his brother’s coronation was less 
urgent matter ; so that he kept his ten thousand men 
to finish Zara before proceeding to Naples. In this 
letter Ludwig took Jehanne’s cession for granted, 
and even proposed the coronation’s date as September 
20, as the Papal Legate would arrive on the 18th, a 
week thence. If possible, he, Ludwig, would be 
there himself ; if not, he would come later, as the 
siege permitted. Andrea himself brought Jehanne 
the letter, and she nodded a dull assent to all he said, 
with the air of one who struggles no more. He was 
jubilantly talkative, like all vain persons hoisted on 
to a little eminence, and, mistaking her passive 
endurance for cowed submission, he went away well 
pleased with his victory. 

But when Andrea had left her, her suppressed rage 
threatened to choke her, and even though the hour 
was that of the siesta, and the sun was hot, she craved 
for open air, free space. She had hardly dared think 
of her forbidden joy, Louis, since that fateful Council, 
but now his image rose willy nilly, and to banish it 
she bid Sancia take her wheel to the eastern gardens, 


204 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


and then sent her within to sleep the noon-slumber 
of the South. 

Close to the outer wall was a covered arbour of 
vines and some sweet-scented shrub from Greece, and 
in a tiny fountain-basin before it, a brilliant peacock 
was drinking. 

Trusting to her wheel’s hum to soothe her, Jehanne 
began to spin. She had vowed a processional 
banner to Santa Chiara’s church, representing Our 
Ladye of Sorrows kneeling before Calvary, and as 
she was fain to do its every stitch herself, she now 
twisted the fine silk rope to hang it on its pole, and 
its purple silk and gold threads made a cord rather 
thicker than her middle finger. 

Her idle fancy began to weave on ropes and their 
many uses. Hapless Arachne flitted into her vision, 
and Ulysses straining at his mast, Ixion on his 
wheel. She wound a strand round her own white 
wrists. 

“ Imperial purple, too ! ” she murmured, then 
smiled, as she thought of how as a tiny child Marzano 
had taught her upon his knee to make sailor’s knots. 
She made one now, and found she remembered it 
perfectly. 

Filippa came round the thicket edge, sheltered by a 
large fan, bearing her a snow-cooled drink, and she 
chid her affectionately for not sleeping, but smiled 
as she drank it. 

Suddenly the Catanian picked up and examined 
the rope closely, and her fingers shook oddly a second. 
Jehanne asked her wherefore. 

“ Naught, carissima ! I was thinking of Delilah 
the Philistine woman, and wondering if she twined 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 205 


the rope for Samson — how she must have itched to 
put it close round his bull throat when he slept 
there ! ” 

Jehanne laughed lightly. “ What a queer thought, 
mama mia ! I, too, thought of ropes of olden times. 
Perchance she did not spin it herself, but took one 
from her camel’s gear — I marvel ! ” 

Filippa stooped, kissed her cheek hotly, and left 
her with the words : “ Make it strong, Jehannina ! 
The banner will be quite heavy ! ” 

The wheel purred on, and a white dove joined the 
peacock’s drink. 

The thicket rustled, but she knew that the steel 
chains of the two panthers who lived in it only reached 
to its edge, so paid no heed till the nearest boughs 
parted when the wheel stopped sharply. 

There stood Louis, his hand caressing carelessly, 
as if it were on a cat’s, the head of one of the 
panthers, who usually set fiercely upon any but their 
keepers ! 

“ Oh, why came you ? You may be seen — be- 
ware the panther also ! ” she cried in quick alarm. 
But the panther purred as he stroked it, well 
pleased. 

“ Nay, she loves me,” he answered easily. “ And 
I came — because I could not stay away ! O, my 
Jehanne ! Could any mortal man and lover who saw 
as I did the scene of Palazzo di Taranto — you in 
your foe’s hands— do else ? I had resolved firmly 
to go hence, and see you no more — till we are free— 
I was going the morning after the proclamation 
day, but after I saw it I could not go ! My sword was 
loose, my hand aching to be on your worst foe ; yet 


206 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


when things are — as they are — between us, I knew it 
for sin, and held back. The blood of the churl 
would stain my Ruby from the Virgin’s crown ! Yet 
I came to say farewell, now, ere I go.” 

“ Ah, Louis ! Know you not that my throne falls 
now ? I am a shame to Anjou, to Naples, for I have 
been forced to cede my rights to my enemies — unless 
a desperate stroke saves me, I am a toy for them ! 
Ah, why did you come ? You made me shrink from 
the death which threatens me, whereas before the 
other night on the terrace — I almost welcomed 
it!” 

They stepped into the arbour and sat upon a bench. 
Louis was strangely calm, Jehanne tremblingviolently. 
She broke out suddenly : 

“ Louis, I am driven to the last point of despair ! 
True, the law of man binds me here prisoner, but my 
spirit breaks all bonds of man now. I love thee more 
than aught else — ay, more than my soul ! Take me 
hence, Louis — lest I do a worse thing ! My barons 
tempt me to seek freedom, in a measure, by capturing 
Andrea and regaining my rights as Queen ; but what 
then ? If I must sit alone, bound upon my throne, 

for years Love has driven me mad, methinks — 

I feel as if I must run from my realm, a screaming, 

distraught thing ! Aid me, help me. Ah ” She 

ended in a moan and sank in his arms. Gently he 
raised her head, and looked her steadily in her tor- 
mented eyes. 

“ Nay, now, comfort thee, beloved ! The other 
night I forgot one thing which I had heard. I heard 
(in San Gennaro one morn) Andrea’s friar and the 
Archbishop Orsini, and from what they said knew, that 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 207 


King Ludwig means war, and, whate’er betides, he 
will try to make Naples but a fief of Hungary. Now, 
will the fierce Neapolitans bear this ? In cool reason, 
tell me, how long has any hated tyrant ever worn 
Naples’ crown ? Any common knife may set thee 
free — and though neither thou nor I may in honour 
lift one finger thereto, we cannot but see what comes. 
Courage ! High heaven knows that we twain sin 
not in our love now, but even to the world’s eyes we 
must not seem so to do. I cannot tarnish my Star 
beloved ! So thus I must go hence till thou art 
free ! ” 

Her lips parted in quick ecstasy, and she sprang to 
her feet all a-glow with strange fires, and held out her 
hands in rapture. 

Instantly his eyes kindled with the answering 
flame, and he kissed her lips till she gasped for 
breath. 

“ Jehanne, my Jehanne ! Thou wilt be mine then ! ” 
he said, very low. 

“ If thou could’st only stay with me ” She 

clung to him. “ I long for thy strong presence, 
thy love, thine aid every hour ! How can I part 
with thee, my Louis ? Nay, take me hence 
now ” 

She stared wildly at the garden wall, as if it were 
a prison bound, her reason, her sense overwrought 
by the tempest within her. 

But Louis understood, and very gently took up her 
hand with its gold ring, with its carven “ A ” and 
crown, with steady fingers. 

“Nay, ador^e, thou art now frenzied with trouble ! 
Not till this lies no more on this little hand can I 


208 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


come to thee ! Courage, courage, ma mie ! Then I 
shall come through the straight gate of honour — thy 
knight! Be brave, my Jehanne — bear it a while 
longer ! ” 

His self control, his calm reasoning, brought back her 
rioting sense to more level balance, and she smiled 
up at him trustfully. 

He pleasanted with her, to divert her, lover- 
like. 

“ But will my Queen then crown her simple knight ? 
Thou see’st I am but a trovere ” 

But indignantly she took him seriously. 

“ Trovere or Emperor of the East, what care I ? 
Thou are my Louis, my love, and I could raise my 
knight to my throne if I would ! Why doubtest 
thou me ? ” 

He smiled at her, with that irresistible smile he had, 
more with eyes than mouth, and kissed her forehead 
long. 

Then the waning sunlight warned him that he must 
go, and he said : 

“ I must hence, adorata mia ! Think on my words, 
trust me, and guard thy dear self well. I will not be 
far away, and at need can return. Kiss me, and let 
me go ” 

She clung to him, her tears streaming, her sobs 
shaking her whole frame. Like some fretting child 
he hushed her with a child’s device. 

“ Now, now, ma mie ! I will not lengthen our 
parting thus — it is cruel for us both. Yet if thou 
wilt calm thee, I will sing thee a little song, and 
then go hence very quickly. ’Tis best thus, my 
Jehanne ! ” 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 209 


He noted her wheel, and mused a moment or two, 
she meanwhile stifling her tears and watching his 
every movement, as if she would imprint his image the 
deeper on her memory. Then, with the trovere’s 
ease, he improvised : 

(t Link me a chain of stars 
To bind my soul to thine ! 

Strong as that forged for Mars 
By Vulcan, him t’entwine ! 

Spin me a rope of dreams 
Blue, cloudy like spun smoke, 

Frail, but as strong as seemed 
Endymion's when he woke. 

Twine me a crimson cord 
Of passion’s fibres red 
Bonds whereof never sword 
Can sunder e’en a thread. 

Weave me a dark grey rope 
Like the cords wherewith Death 
Links to him those past hope. 

Spun from his icy breath. 

Twist me together three 
Hairs of thy living gold. 

They for my heart shall be 
Rope which it ay shall hold ! 

This like the noose of Fate 
Binds like her strong steel wire. 

Faster than death or hate. 

Knot of my High Desire ! ” 

He sang low, for caution’s sake, but the perfect 
magic of his voice absorbed her wholly for the moment 
and banished her active distress. 

As the last note sank he clasped her hastily a 
moment, and found her stiff as a statue, even though 
she felt his heart beat and thrill her wildly. He 
stepped rapidly away, and she found her tongue as 
her grief rushed upon her. 

p 


210 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


“ Ah, Louis ! I shall be dead ere thou canst 
return ! ” she faltered. 

But he went with one word, not daring to heed 
her entreaty. 

“ No ! Courage, dearest heart ! When I return 
thou wilt be free ! ” 

The outer garden wall was very high, and beyond it 
lay the moat, just now partly drained, but even so 
the fosse was too deep to scale from without. 

Wondering, Jehanne walked quickly from the 
arbour, just in time to see him run along the battle- 
ment, speak to the sentinel, who took his great iron 
axed-headed, eight-foot halberd and laid it firmly 
against two of the battlement jags. 

From under his cloak he drew a rope, and tying 
this to the weapon, Louis lowered himself into the 
deserted fosse. 

She ran up the steps and confronted the sentry. 

“ Who was that gentle ? ” she asked, dreading that 
the man would betray them. 

He recognised the Queen and his jaw dropped. 

“ Highness — Majesty — Madonna — I cannot tell,” 
he stammered ; but she stamped her foot sharply. 

“ No harm will come to him ! Answer ! ” 

“ Majesty, ’twas but a frolic — a young lord’s joke. 
He came after one of your noble damsels — he was my 
old seigneur ” 

46 Ay — I know all about the damsel, but who is 
he ? ” holding up a gold coin. 

“ Is’t possible your Majesty does not know her 
own royal cousin ? ’Tis Luigi, il Principe di Taranto, 
whom I have served ever since I could trail pike, till 
I came hither with the Empress a year ago. — I could 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 211 


not refuse him a lift over a wall. — Alii ! I humbly 
thank your most high Majesty ! ” 

She walked back to the arbour, and sat there as if 
stunned. 

Louis — her Louis — was Empress Catherine’s son ! 


CHAPTER XIV 


Louis, after he left Jehanne, went towards Castel 
Capuana, his thoughts bordering on frenzy. He had 
suffered so much during the last few days that it 
began to tell, even upon his iron self-control. 

Jehanne — Andrea, Himself ! It was a combination 
to drive him mad, yet when he added up the sundry 
signs of hatred of the Prince he heard on all sides, 
they formed a very sure total of his murder being 
attempted by some independent hand. Thus Louis’s 
sound common sense naturally spoke comfort. He 
knew with the certainty of a great love that he need 
fear no rival with Jehanne then, and he felt that the 
joy which had come to him in a cloak of pain must 
soon cast it. He would fain have stayed near her 
till then, but honour bade him go, and he was going. 

But then— ah — then ! Jehanne thought him only 
a simple knight, yet she loved him with her whole 
heart ! The world became Eden again, the stars 
sang above. 

As he passed, he noted the sign of Vico Medina, 
and bethought him he would bid Marek the Tzigana 
farewell, and ask her to keep him posted in news of 
Jehanne in his absence. He knocked, and a woman 
with a scared look let him in, and presently took him 
to the gorgeous room wherein she had previously 
received him and Marguerite. 

212 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 213 


Marek lay on a divan, fury written on brow and 
mouth, her long hair unbound, her hands gripping 
with rage. His entry calmed her a moment like some 
lovely Hecate, lulled in her tempest. 

“ Forgive a stormy welcome, Messire de Chartres, 
but I am mad ! I have just found out what maddens 
a woman worst in the world ! I — oh ” 

He sat beside her, sympathy radiating in his manner 
and took her hand. 

44 Tell me what is amiss,” he said ; and she, too 
furious for caution, trusted him. 

44 My lover spoke in his sleep words which told me 
all ! ” she said frantically. 44 1 am but a toy — it is 
my rival he loves, who is his desire. Me he has 
tricked, cozened. O fool that I was to trust a Giorgio 
lord. But they both shall pay — queen or no queen ! ” 

44 Tell me this lover’s name, dear friend 1 I have 
a sword most men fear ” 

Marek pressed his hand closely. 

44 Yes, I read by my Tzigana skill which has now 
returned to me, that my eyes are no longer blinded 
by false love, that I may trust you. My lover was 
the Count of Savoy ! I must kill him I O, undreamed- 
of liar ! ” 

Louis started violently. Ha, but this was lucky — 
she might have harmed Jehanne if she was not told 
the truth. 

44 He is my husband, by our tribal laws ! ” raved 
Marek, biting her nails with strong white teeth. 

44 Your husband ? ” Fiercely she told him all her 
tale. 

44 1 know the Queen well — she does not love him — 
be satisfied,” he said calmly. 

Her gaze pierced him sharply, and she laughed. 


214 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


“ So ! Who are you that love my rival ? ” she 
asked suddenly, and he gasped ; for the gipsy’s weird 
Sight had shown her the truth in that one second. 
He must bind her to silence, and frankness was the 
one way of doing it. 

“ Her true and happy lover ! ” he said straightly. 

“ She only likes the Count of Savoy as a friend — 
does not even realise he loves her — or, if she does, 
ignores it, and is only friendly to him. Are you 
content ? ” 

Marek’s wild look and tone calmed. 

“ Good ! That remains for me to prove. Now 
who are you ? for De Chartres is a mere name. I can 
read you are noble. You may trust me.” 

“ I am Louis, Prince of Taranto.” He told her 
of his disguise, and the rest, and as he ended she 
nodded very confidently. 

“You are a happy lover ! All favours you. Take 
your white queen and leave my traitor to me ; — he 
knows not that I heard him talk in his sleep, so I 
can deal with him. Ah — he shall suffer, even as I 
do!” 

“ How can I take the Queen ? ” asked Louis scorn- 
fully. “ Will the Pope dissolve me her vows to 
Andrea? Folly!” 

“ Death will free her. I know the stars, and his 
astre, pale Saturn, suffers eclipse in another week ! 

We must only wait, and then But you must 

now leave Naples, for her sake, lest aught should be 
known afterwards ” 

“ Ay, I know. I came even now to bid you fare- 
well. I must also take my sister from Naples, and 
as we have a villa at Amalfi, and I know its Republic’s 
President very well, we will go and stay there. On a 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 215 


word from you, I will return here like the wind. 
But can I aid you in naught now ? ” 

“ Not yet, brave friend. Wait, and go now ! ” 

He found Marguerite sitting in Capuana’s cortile ; 
and as he appeared she hid something white hastily 
in her dress. 

“ We ride for Amalfi, dearest ; — no questions now, 
but pack thy gear. I will explain as we ride ! ” he 
said, and went to warn Pons and Blancdine that they 
were leaving. 

But Marguerite smiled as she ran up to her 
room, and there danced a few gay steps of a 
tarantella. 

“ Aha ! ” she said to herself. “ The Princess of 
Taranto may have to dwell awhile at Amalfi, but — 
she will never leave it ! ” 

With which mystic phrase she packed her bale. 

A day was gone, but at the siesta-hour Jehanne 
dared not seek the garden, lest the sentinel should 
suspect if he saw her there twice ; so she lay day- 
dreaming on her bed, intending lazily to rise anon, 
to spin, for she wished to give the banner to the church 
next Sunday. 

The preparations for the Coronation were going 
on with slow unwillingness on the Neapolitan but 
with jubilant energy on the Hungarian side. The 
Castel had hummed all the morning with tailors, 
jewellers, mantua makers, and furnishers of every 
kind, and Jehanne’s head ached with the effort of 
speaking politely to the men who fitted her for her 
splendid new purple surcoat, with its gems and 
broideries — to her a robe of shame and humiliation. 
Though she doubted her strength to wear it if the 


216 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


time ever arrived, she had stood like a doll while they 
made it. 

Now she revelled in the quiet of her room. The 
door into the anteroom had unnoticed under its 
heavy fleur-de-lys’s portiere, slipped its latch, and 
presently she heard Filippa and Sancia talking in the 
antechamber. Idly she heard at first, but suddenly 
she sat up, too interested to check them. 

“ What if it failed, and he screamed ? ” asked 
Sancia. 

“ Failed — bah ! It cannot fail, for Beltramo’s 
hands are like a vice, even if the rope snapped, 
and Carlo d’ Artois there too — be easy ! Ahi ! If 
that Red Count were son of mine, how I could 
love him — never falters, never at a loss ! ” from 
Filippa. 

Jehanne’s hand clasped her other wrist so tight 
that it loosed a heavy gold bracelet’s snap, and it 
jingled on the marble floor. 

“ Hush, she wakes ! ” from Sancia, and they ceased 
murmuring. 

Jehanne sat bolt upright and stared in front of her. 
They were speaking of Andrea’s capture, but there 
was that in their tones which hinted at more than mere 
capture. To Jehanne’s quick fancy leapt a worse 
thing. She remembered Filippa’s strange speech of 
Delilah and Samson, and she imagined the rope 
round Andrea’s throat. . . . 

Then she was scornful of her own folly, and to 
check it slipped noiselessly from her bed and went to 
her wheel. Its purple coil on the winder was satis- 
factory, but the wheel’s ivory hub looked at her 
like a little twinkling spying eye. 

A rope — Samson’s throat — had said Filippa. . 0 . 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 217 


A rope — the noose of Fate had sung Louis, and the 
words made mad music in her disordered fancy. 

Mechanically she hummed to herself : 

“ Spin me a dark grey rope 

Like to the bonds which Death — ” 

She set her stool by the wheel, and her foot found 
the treader. Whirr — whirr. 

“ Link me together three 
Hairs of thy living gold — ” 

That was her hair, of course. 

Her thoughts ran on ropes again. How if Delilah 
had spun her own hair into the rope which held her 
husband down ? Surely they would have bewitched 
it to breaking at the treachery. 

But Andrea was no Samson. He would screech 
and writhe like a webbed fly when they bound him 
with a rope — never strive silently to break it. 

Then she laughed. What a fool she was to imagine 
things ! Why, it was only for his capture that 
Filippa had said he must be bound. Even then he 
must not be allowed to scream and alarm his men. 
Beltramo w r ould gag him quite safely, and even so 
this silken rope of hers had naught to do with it. 
They would use some common hemp leashing, not this 
fine silk. Why did her terrible foolish fancy leap to 
stranglings and such horrors ? Scarce knowing what 
she did, she broke off half-a-dozen long gold hairs and 
spun them into the purple twist, singing lowly : 

“ They for my heart shall be. 

Rope which for ay shall hold ! ” 

Louis’s heart ! How she longed to twine him a 
little twist of her hair and give it him, with a diamond 


218 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


heart as pendant, to wear above his own ! Louis’s 
heart ! His last words thrilled suddenly : 

44 When I return you will be free ! ” 

Free I Freedom lay in a noose — if it were the 
Noose of Death in the song. Oh, hideous temptation ! 
What would happen if she wove the rope, knotted the 

end, gave it to Amaury, and told him to Ah ! 

In the frenzied second succeeding this dreadful 
thought she plucked out more hairs, heedless that it 
hurt, and the wheel hummed like an angry wasp : 

“ Stronger than death or hate — 

Knot of my High Desire ! ** 

There were two Desires, one High, one base as the 
very floor of the Pit. The last longed for Andrea’s 
death. 

A demon seemed to whisper in her ear : 44 You 
might spin that rope ! ” 

44 Nay ! He wrought for his ambitions, but not 
for my life,” said her conscience firmly. 

44 He has slain your life’s best happiness 1 ” said 
the demon louder. 44 Spin ! ” 

The purple threads shortened fast, only another 
yard of loose silk remained, while full six yards lay 
coiled ready on the floor. She drew out more hairs 
mechanically and twined on. 

44 Then with my sword I reft her from his hand ! ” 
Ah, no ! What had Louis said ? — 

44 The blood of the churl would stain my Ruby 
from the Virgin’s Crown ! ” 

Blood ! Aye, blood would slip from Andrea’s 

throat as the sharp silk cut it if — if Could a man 

strangle and the skin not be cut ? 

She had seen a man hanged on the gallows without 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 219 


Porta Nolana ; the dangling legs, strained neck, rose 
ghastly before her — 

No, no ! A thousand noes ! She would see 
Amaury, tell him her fear, make him swear that he 
would only bind Andrea ! 

The last thread left her finger over the wheel’s 
rim, and she whipped it off and knotted the ends 
so violently that the keen hairs cut the delicate skin 
of her forefinger, and a tiny crimson drop soaked the 
purple and gold twist. She could bear no more of 
her thoughts — she flung the rope from her and 
clapped her hands with a noise which brought in the 
startled women in a trice. 

“ Get my echarpe, Filippa ! I stifle in here. I am 
going across to the Empress for a little while ! ” 

In the streaming sunlight of early noon, the large 
audience chamber at Castel Nuovo, with its many long 
windows giving on to the terrace, was empty save for 
two persons. Guy de Montleon, very elegant in his 
grey satin cotte hardie, with its silver belt and neck- 
chain of frosted silver Genoa filagree, a pink rose 
over one ear in his dark curls, walked lingeringly, 
for his arm was round the waist of lovely Cecile des 
Baux, “ Passe-Rose,” whose beautiful fair head 
almost rested on his willing shoulder. 

But as they walked she started, for a long mirror 
reflected the whole terrace without. Prince Andrea 
and Friar Robert were coming in, and they must not 
find Cecile here duenna-less, for she was not of the 
Queen’s Maids, and Hughes des Baux was a strict 
father. Guy spied a long sofa, heavily draped with 
black and white fleur-de-lys’d velvet by the wall,, 
so with a silent little push to Cecile he dropped out of 
sight behind it, just as the other pair entered the 


220 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


room. Cecile, quite cool, curtseyed and passed out 
of the nearest window. 

But the Prince and his factotum did not go through 
to the rooms beyond ; they remained and talked 
rapidly, and Guy, behind his dusty sofa, nearly 
coughed, but by good luck kept mouse-quiet. He was 
too honourable to willingly eavesdrop, but felt obliged 
to hear, after the first few words. 

“ That old sheep-face Clement will never annul it 
peacefully,” said Andrea. 

“ But we have that which will ! ” chuckled the 
monk ; and Guy heard his lips smack. 

“ She likes scented ice- water.” 

“ But if these Neapolitan rats found it out, if ?” 

asked the Prince viciously, yet his voice shook. 
“ Their action t’other morn showed somewhat — 
The woman is a witch, I believe ! ” 

“ Nay, Andrea mine. That way is unsafe now, too 
dark. All the world would defend her — inquire 
into it — but a woman with a tarnished name, as I 
told thee — what king alive would aid ? A Queen who 
toys shamefully with a vassal — is tried for’t in open 
Court- — who shall prevent her lawful husband doing 
justice on her ? Afterwards, if she dies of languor 
in her penancing-convent, who to blame ? No one ! 
First accusation, then sentence. To work carefully.” 

Andrea’s laugh turned Guy cold. 

“ Pity we dare not accuse the real culprit with her. 
But Savoy is a rough bear to grip ; cousin to too 
many great houses to be easy pressing. Bah ! 
Jezebel ! ” 

The friar coughed. 

“ Eh, pity ! But our way is best, for the shame is 
greater. Beltramo d’ Artois, her own grandsire’s 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 221 


son’s child — much more scandal, and we can have 
his head risklessly, for he has no County of Savoy 
to rise defend him ! We can laugh at her insolence 
then— no more proud head-tosses and cursed scorn- 
smiles then ! Oh, Andrea my Prince, you have great 
helpers and greater future. What will you feel when 
we set your bride from Buda on your kingly throne 
by you ? You will be great as Ludwig — even 
greater ” 

Andrea struck his hands together childishly 
delighted. 

“ Oh, best of helpers, Father ! What your aid 
gives me ! A throne, freedom, power ! To come, 
maybe, an heir ! A true son of a Hungarian mother, 
not a brat of this wanton here ! Take what thou 
wilt of mine that day. I am impatient to act now, 
but we must pass the twentieth of this month safely 
first ” 

“ Let us to the garden. Stefan Barazad waits us.” 

They went, and Guy, cramped stiff as a lance, 
lifted a dusty person over his sofa, and gasped in 
horror. 

Queen Jehanne’s life and honour were in those two 
vile men’s hands, and they would take both. 

He brushed a dusty sleeve. “ Ugh ! This is no 
place for a noble Provencal ! I stay for her sake 
only, else I were off to the Alpes Maritimes to-morrow ! 
Bene ! I must seek her at once ! Eh, my ears seem 
fated to overhear everything ! ” 

The Palazzo di Taranto’s garden on its northern 
side was only small, but cunningly contrived walks 
simulated larger space, and its Greek statues from 
the Morea were even finer than those at Castel 
Nuovo. From its wide outer wall the Tarentine 


222 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


guard might look down upon some narrow vici only, 
but in the wide battlements’ embrasures were pleasant 
seats and tubs of palms and flowers. 

Jehanne sat with the Empress in a little marble 
casino of the garden below, talking feverishly of gowns, 
jewels, trifles, anything to keep her thoughts from 
their previous trend ; and though her flushed cheek 
and nervous way made Catherine wonder, she said 
nothing ; and soon, as the sun was setting, Ithamar 
of Argos came out, announcing that Messer Niccolo 
Accaijuolo had brought the accounts for her Imperial 
Highness. 

Catherine went in, and Jehanne hoped the great 
banker’s business would not keep her long, as she had 
a craving for company just then, but after a while, 
as she did not return, walked down the garden to 
the steps up the wall. 

The sunset’s flamy glory was spreading over Naples 
and the Bay, the reddest ruby crown in all King 
Phoebus’s casket of gems, perhaps the loveliest view 
of the sky which Naples can show of all its gorgeous 
days and nights ; and in the cooler air of the wall-top 
Jehanne breathed deeply with pleasure. On the wall’s 
inner side, just there, a huge mass of pink and red 
geranium climbed right up from ground to coping, 
even to the battlement summit, where it met a great 
thick ivy-tree’s leaves, growing from without, and 
Jehanne, idly leaning over, pulled the red petals as 
she watched the little alley winding twenty feet below. 

Suddenly she crouched low behind the fragrant 
barrier, her hearing painfully alert. Far below walked 
Andrea and a girl — such a girl ! His voice floated up : 

“Another kiss, and I must go within, Ninetta 
mia!” 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 223 


“ Yet come earlier to-night, my lord. I am im- 
patient ” 

Jehanne rubbed her eyes. Oh — was it thus the 
cold, rigid prude played hypocrite ? Had it been 
some splendid lady of pleasure, some dame famous 
in Naples, it would have seemed less vile. But a 
poor run-the-street, a wisp of frayed rag that any 
amateur gallant would shame to chuck under chin 
in the Mercato ! 

She flung up her hands to the flaming sky, and her 
voice was thick like a half-palsied woman’s, as she 
cried : 

“ Now, Grandsire Robert, look down, and see a 
toad squat on thy throne ! O shame of a king ! So 
much for my too gentle scruples to haul him off 
thy chair ! Ha ! ha ! ha 1 ” Her laughter was 
ghastly. 

A quick quiet rustle in the ivy made her turn, to 
find Amaury in a dark blue cloak, slipping off a mask, 
behind her. 

“ Now were we right to have him seized and made 
safe, or no ? ” he asked her straight, a grim smile 
on his face. 

She nodded, unable to answer. 

“ I followed them two hours, in my squire’s mantle, 
and found out that she lives in Vico Catania, where 
he has given her a lodging and many gifts. She sells 
oranges and lemons in the Mercato, but he had another 
before her, a similar hussy, a church-candle maker. 
This girl knifed her, three days ago, lest he should 
return to her. She was arrested but Wallachia 
instantly freed her. High time we stopped such 
games ! ” 

Jehanne was ghost- white, yet her eyes were black 


224 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


with disgust. Amaury’s blunt words fanned her 
loathing, hardened her resolve. 

She saw her fingers red-stained with the petals, 
and threw them violently away. Amaury read her 
thoughts, but dared say nothing just then. 

Fate, for once timely, stepped in ; for Guy, hearing 
from Ithamar that Jehanne was on the wall, came up, 
but, seeing Amaury, stopped short. 

“ Altesse, can you graciously hear me on a private 
matter ? ” he asked. 

With that weird intuition which comes to people 
in acute crisises, she startled both by replying : 

“ Does it concern the Prince ? If so, speak out. 
I have no secrets as to him from the Count of Savoy.” 

The words came very fast, as though she could not 
steady her voice if she spoke slower. Guy stared, 
but by this time nothing surprised him very much, 
so methodically he told her every word of that dread- 
ful dialogue between Prince and friar, except the 
hint of Amaury’s part in matters. That in cold 
blood under the Red Count’s eyes he dared not 
say. 

Jehanne neither hid her face nor fainted, but stood 
staring at the glowing fire in the western sky, her lips 
moving, but no sound coming thence. 

She swayed a little on her feet ; Amaury put out a 
ready arm, but she fenced him off, and made a few 
short high steps forward, as if the very ground held 
snare for her feet — for her soul she felt the powers of 
evil did. Oh, by the Gates of Gehenna ! She had 
invoked King Robert’s spirit in sooth ! Her wildest 
nightmare had held no such horror as Guy’s tale. 
Andrea sought first her crown, then her honour, and 
lastly her life ! Oh, the enormous shame he dug for 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 225 


her ! Beltramo d’Artois. Horror ! And she had 
scrupled virtuously to even order the arrest of the 
author of all these infamies ! O foolish scruples, 
more foolish hesitation ! 

Guy’s voice roused her now, entreating, boldened 
by need. 

“ Altesse, we pray you to act speedily. For my 
part, I hold prison too good for such a wretch ! 
Forgive me — we are your devoted servants ” 

The lad’s plain words conjured up her temptation 
again most horribly. The mad desire rose in her 
to cry to Amaury : “ Do what you will with him ! 
He is my foe ! ” and how strong that desire was, no 
pen can tell. Yet suddenly rose Louis’s face, stern 
and set : and the sword of honour even to such a 
beast defended her from herself. 

Yet for her kingdom she must act. She felt as 
one on a shifting quicksand, who sees the sea rise 
about him — and her only refuge was the leaky ship 
of the conspiracy. Guy said the only thing which 
could have weighed with her just then. 

“ Altesse, there was one other thing they said I — 
dare not tell,” he faltered, looking at Amaury. 

But Amaury laughed the sharp laugh of a man who 
sees his enemy coming towards him at last. 

“ Out with it, Guy ! They said that I, and not 
Beltramo, was the Man ? ” 

Guy’s face was whiter than Jehanne’s. He fell on 
his knees. 

“ Altesse, they did ! ” and bowed his face in her 
dress folds. 

For one moment she stared at Amaury as if she 
did not understand ; then, as the fierce fire leapt into 
his eyes, and his lips blanched and parted, she knew 
Q 


226 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


that if Guy had not been there he would have taken 
her in his arms ! She knew now that the Red 
Count’s devotion was red love — and the shock thrilled 
her too deeply, to show him then the glaring truth, 
that she was another’s. Amaury watched her closely, 
but he deemed her impassiveness self-control, and 
ventured a great thing. 

“ Would you not also think prison too mild ? ” he 
asked slowly. 

The world rocked about her. These words seemed 
to confirm her dread suspicion — nay, to show her 
th^t her fancy was tangible, real horror ! She put 
her two hands upon his shoulders so that he must 
face her eyes. 

“ Amaury, answer me ! What mean you ? ” she 
asked like a judge. 

He saw the black horror in her eyes, read his course 
clear, and with a face as calmly impassive as a brazen 
idol, replied : 

“ More humiliation than mere capture — some 
punishment ! ” 

But Jehanne was alert enough — the murder- 
phantom haunted her, would not down. 

“ No, no ! You mean you would all fain slay him — 
and though the cause is great, I know, I will not lend 
my word to murder. Hear you that, Amaury ? 
Ah — I have been so terrified. I heard Filippa talk 
of a rope. It fills me with dread. Oh, Amaury — 
I will not rest till you swear to me now that you will 
not do more than bind him ! Swear it ! ” 

Amaury saw now that Jehanne needed wary 
leading — and he never halted. 

“ My word is my bond ! ” he said solemnly as before 
an altar. 


JEIIANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 227 


Yet her abandonment of his formal name had set 
him in the seventh heaven, and he could scarce keep 
back the joy from his look as he clasped both her hands 
and said earnestly : 

“Yet we have your consent to take him captive 
when and as we think best ? ” 

And she, knowing that the sea of danger rose to her 
knees, answered firmly : 

“Yes, my full consent to that — that only ! ” but 
her own voice was dim to her ears, for the conscious- 
ness of his hot love was dawning gradually upon her, 
and scorched her with yet another terror. 

But to her infinite relief he bowed with elaborate 
courtesy : 

“ A thousand thanks, Majesty ! ” 

For the Empress Catherine and Princess Marie 
with her were coming towards them, Marie humming 
a verse of Boccaccio’s as she came. 

Two things had escaped Jehanne, however : the 
first was the look Guy gave skywards when Amaury 
pledged his word ; the second was Marek, sitting at 
the bottom of the wall in the Vico, clad in the robe 
of a begging nun. She had followed Amaury while 
he dogged Andrea I 

* * * * * 

Once again a nobly manned felucca rode lightly 
in the moonlight on the Bay of Naples. It was the 
night after' the scene upon Palazzo di Taranto’s 
garden wall, and the conspirators knew that they had 
no time to lose ; so as many as could slip away unseen 
were now assembled in the boat. 

“ Now, lords, you all see that I was right,” said 
Bertrand des Baux bluntly. “ The Queen will not 
consent to er — more than imprisonment. She will 
Q2 


228 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


fall upon us, shrieking we have bloodied her name 
before all Europe ! What is to be done ? ” 

For two tense moments there was silence, and then 
Filippa, her woman’s hate hottest and sharpest of 
all, put the torch to their laid pile. 

“ Princes under stress of their state-burdens have 
been known to commit suicide,” she spat, rearing her 
fierce white face on her strong neck like some wood- 
land cobra. “ But how ? For his Magyar nurse 
told me that he is charmed against steel and poison : 
twice in his youth have these failed, though once he 
actually drank wine which killed a taster after- 
wards.” 

“ He might fall from a tower-top — sail in a leaky 
boat,” said the Empress slowly. 

Then struck in Charles of Durazzo : 

“ The Sultan of Tunis’s ambassador told me a fair 
tale of bow-strings ” 

“If he hung himself, we could tell the Queen he 
went mad when we made him prisoner ! ” said 
Bertrand des Baux deliberately. 

“ I always said Bertrand was a worthy Grand 
Justicer,” thought Amaury gleefully. 

“ Well thought, Bertrand,” he added aloud. “ But 
he is strictly guarded now, and it must be done before 
the 20th. Aha ! I have it. His camerlengo, Messer 
Tomaso di Pace, is the greatest lick-shoon alive. With 
a countship, easily given, we make him ours. He, 
too, is hand in glove with Niccolo di Milazzo, the 
rascally notary who makes out all Andrea’s docu- 
ments. These twain would work together, if we 
bait them well ! And, after all, if our plan is not all 
that could be desired, remember that it is for the 
saving of our beloved Queen and country. No private 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 229 


scruples may stand before such noble end ! Naples, 
the Queen, gentlemen ! ” 

He smiled serenely, in the dark, to himself, as the 
approving murmur ran. Then he continued : 

“ So I take it that we may now unfalteringly agree 
to save our Queen from the consequences of her too- 
noble hesitation to free her people, and save her own 
dear life. Afterwards, as Bertrand says, we can 
persuade her that we did rightly. Dead rats cannot 
bite. Are you all with me ? ” 

The chorus of yeas was unanimous, and in the dark 
the Red Count rubbed his hands, well pleased. 

Before the felucca put to land they had planned 
all the details. 


CHAPTER XV 


By the eighteenth of September, Castel Nuovo 
hummed like a hive with the preparations for the 
coronation on the twentieth, so that when Messer 
Tomaso di Pace, his Chamberlain, proposed that the 
Prince should escape the bustle awhile by a hawking 
party in the direction of Aversa, to wind up with a 
night at its ancient Convent o, and return to Naples 
on the morrow just in time to welcome the Papal 
Legate, Andrea readily accepted, and with his wife 
and a small train rode out in the fair sunny 
morning. 

Jehanne, too, welcomed any diversion in the 
anxious strain she bore, and as he rode beside her, 
Andrea noted nothing unusual in her manner, but she 
held her bird, talked and rode as one in a passive 
dream. She had not seen Amaury alone since the 
time on the Tarentine wall, nor had she dared question 
Filippa as to when Andrea was to be seized, fearing 
her own breakdown if she knew in advance, and 
even this morning she scarce dared look Amaury 
in the face, and avoided him instinctively in the 
chase. 

Besides him, with her rode now only Bertrand des 
Baux, Pierre de Lascaris, Guy de Montleon, and her 
unofficial uncle, King Robert’s son Charles, Comte 
d’ Artois, Filippa, Sancia, and Mabrice di Pace. 

230 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 231 

With Duke Charles came Duchess Marie, attended 
by Margarita di Ceccano, her maid ; Andrea, the Ban 
of Wallachia (who had sued Jehanne’s pardon) and 
Nicholas Ungaro, Niccolo di Milazzo, and di Pace, 
and the needful archers, grooms and falconers com- 
pleted the party. The Empress, Marzano and every 
one else were busy as bees in Naples. 

Niccolo di Milazzo, the herald-notary, a little 
ferrety-faced man, rode by di Pace on a flea-bitten 
grey, and their whispers were quick as they passed 
Porta Capuana. Tomaso jerked his thumb back- 
wards. 

“ A safe return to some one ! — but feet foremost ! ” 

“ Surely — unless the sky falls,” replied Niccolo 
quaintly. Vesuvius grimly puffing black smoke in 
the distance seemed to hint Something Else was 
much more likely to open, but neither heeded. 
Tomaso patted his pouch. 

“ Oh, all is too safe ! I have the powders for the 
monks here. We shall get there an hour after Ave 
Maria. Ha, the Queen unhoods ! — forward ! ” 

They had fair sport in the plain of Aversa, and in 
the noon heat picnicked gaily under an olive grove 
by a little stream, and after the luncheon, while 
Pierre de Lascaris told a story, which amused even 
Andrea, no one noted that Amaury and Bertrand had 
wandered off together among some vines. 

“ Let us pray the Hungarian troops arrive not ! ” 
said Bertrand. 

“ Pooh ! ” said Amaury, “ most unlikely. I left 
all in order even so — at the first alarm, Raimond, 
Hugues and the Empress hold the Castel— be easy ! 
Yet mark — though ’tis most impossible — if to-night 
here there should be a failure— I sent my own galley 


232 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


to Baia, and you have got the Seal of Provence from 
Hugues ” 

The Chief Justicer smiled oddly. “ Ere I go any 
further, Amaury, my King, I have a favour to sue. 
The County of Provence needs a Count ! ” 

Amaury gasped. Lordship of a full quarter of his 
kingdom was a staggering price, but one which at 
this crisis he could not refuse. Ah well — promise 
was one thing — performance another. 

“ Thou art Count, and we will reign together, old 
friend,” he said genially, as they turned to join the 
rest. 

“ I should have felt much safer had we been going 
to Raimond’s place, Castello de Casaluce d’Aversa 
to-night,” said Bertrand. 

“ Fool ! ” said Amaury, but without offence. 
“ Why, that was just why we chose the innocent 
Convento ! Sh — sh ! ” 

And during the pleasant idling of the afternoon, 
Amaury’s careless frivolity, and inconsequential 
chatter excited Guy de Montleon’s deepest admiration. 
“ With all that on his mind, he can joke Mabrice about 
her new necklet ! Truly he is a ruler born ! ” mur- 
mured the lad as he watched the Red Count open 
his mouth and wager Duchess Marie that she could 
not throw ten olives into it, from ten paces 
distance. 

The sport was less good in the later afternoon, and 
before dusk fell they hooded hawks, and rode for the 
Convento or monastery of San Pietro di Majella, just 
outside the little town of Aversa. Some distance 
from it rose the towers of Casaluce, a fief granted to 
the Des Baux by King Charles I. 

The Convento was famous for its cloisters’ beautiful 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 233 


marble colonnade and fountain, and for its lovely 
garden, overlooked by the Abbot’s rooms, now 
assigned to the royal visitors, who might thence 
admire its fine orange, myrtle, and lemon trees, and 
its glow of passion flowers and heliotrope. 

Its amiable easy-going Abbot Carlo di Capece (once 
Count di Capece) noted that the monks, pleased as 
children, were peeping about slyly in hopes of a lucky 
glance of their Queen, laughed to her, whereat she 
asked and obtained that the whole Convento might 
waive its rule, and sup with the party in the Refectory, 
where Berto di Cabano had had laid a repast which 
did him credit as a majordomo. 

An hour before midnight the royal party quitted 
the genial Abbot, and went to their rooms, where 
sleep soon reigned, also in that shared by the two 
Hungarian boiars. 

But an hour after midnight, in that chamber 
allotted to Amaury, in the outer wall of the adjoining 
Guest House, there was wakefulness indeed. Its lamp 
showed Bertrand des Baux, with steel shirt under 
cotte hardie, and riding-boots ready to don, straining 
anxious eyes from the window which overlooked the 
road into Aversa and Naples, and kneeling beside 
him his friend. 

Filippa whispered with Charles d’Artois, and 
deepest anxiety felt all. 

“ They are horribly late — what can have hap- 
pened ? ” said Amaury irritably. 

“ Guy is turning the keys on the Ban and Nicholas, 
Duke Charles is minding Marie, and Sancia will quiet 
Jehanne, if need be,” said Filippa. 

“ She knows not, then, that ’tis to be to-night ? ” 
asked Bertrand. 


234 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


“ No ; we thought she might have grown fearful 
at the last. Hark ! Hooves ! ” replied Filippa, as 
the door opened softly and Niccolo di Milazzo’s ferret 
face poked in. 

“ Berto and I have been dosing cups all round,” he 
said. “ The Abbot took his bedside-cup with him, 
let us trust he drinks it. But we could not manage 
the Ban’s nor more than half the varlets. I think 
that is Beltramo at last. I will let him in — the 
reverend porter sleeps.” He went as Guy, with a 
key, and Mabrice di Pace came in. 

Presently entered Beltramo d’Artois, a square-built 
young giant, with close-cropped dark hair and thick 
dark brows which met across his high nose — a trait 
of the house of Anjou, which Boccaccio called “ II 
maschio naso ” in Charles I. The Count of Terlizzi, 
an elderly man with a grey upstanding badger’s 
brush of hair, came with him, and slipped off his 
cloak. 

“ A rumour was running the city that some troops 
have reached Capua, but though we waited, we left 
without its confirmation,” he said to the company. 
“ Is all well here ? Ai — ai ! How ? ” 

A tall monk entered with uplifted hand, saying 
hollowly : 

“ Bless ye, my children ! ” 

Consternation reigned one wild second ere Amaury 
rent off the screening cowl, whereat was a relieved 
giggle. 

Pierre de Lascaris, jestful, even then had stolen a 
frock and grinned at them. 

“ Have done, young fool ! ” growled Amaury, 
shaking him slightly. “ What now ? ” 

“ O reason ! I thought I had best take the porter’s 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 235 


place while you are above, for one never knows who 
might come,” replied Pierre, and Amaury embraced 
him almost gaily. 

“Well thought of, mon brave — go ! ” 

With his going grim tragedy put on her mask again. 
Guy noted with that odd interest which comes to men 
in great moments, that Filippa was the only unmoved 
one of all ; her fierce eyes never wavered, while 
Bertrand played with his hilt, and Amaury kept 
stroking his moustache. 

Terlizzi nervously tightened his shoe-ties, Niccolo 
tiptoed to the door, while Mabrice’s breath came and 
went in catches, but else she was steady. The tower- 
bell sounding the half-hour, and the few moments 
after till its monkish ringer should have retired 
cellwards again, ended their waiting. Amaury 
straightened his shoulders and loosened his dagger. 

“ Time ! ” he said briefly ; and as Beltramo rolled 
back his green cuffs above his brawny elbows, Filippa 
turned up her skirt-hem, and untied some tapes. 
Like a snake on the floor fell the hidden purple silk 
rope. 

She laughed low and terribly as Beltramo took, 
tested, and made a running noose in its end. 

“ I got it secretly from the Queen’s armoire,” she 
explained. 

Guy suddenly turned sick. Fluttering court- 
gallant though he was, his old race’s Provencal 
honour stuck at sight of the rope, and he resolved he 
would only be shield, not blade, in the coming 
villainy, though he might not betray his fellows in 
it, since they trusted him. 

Jehanne’s room overlooked a cortile, and had no 
anteroom, but opened directly into the passage. 


236 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


across which lay Andrea’s chamber. This looked 
into the Abbot’s garden, and on one side of it lay 
Tomaso di Pace’s bedroom, on the other side an ante- 
room, both with doors into the Prince’s bedroom. 
The Duke and Duchess of Durazzo had rooms on 
the same side as Jehanne, but farther along the 
corridor. 

Amaury, heading the creeping procession in its 
single file, was met by the Duke at the passage’s last 
turn, sheet-white, and barefooted. He set the one 
dim corridor-lamp in a deeper niche, though one felt 
in that gloom, one did not see. 

“ All is lost ! ” he whispered. “ That nurse- 
woman of his, Isolda, has somehow suspected a move, 
and followed her nurseling from Naples. Now she 
sleeps across his bed-foot. Tomaso opened his door 
a crack and saw her — but both sleep sound.” 

Amaury replied : “ Then we must entice him into 
the anteroom, and silence her somehow.” 

“ I know ! ” said Mabrice’s low voice. “ I will 
enter from father’s room, Andrea will wake, see me 
only, and not cry out.” 

Niccolo glided up. “ Isolda may not wake, for 
I saw her drink from one of my jugs at supper.” 

“ I will tell the Prince the Queen waits in the ante- 
room ; he will go out, and father will bolt the bedroom 
door behind him. Isolda will think he has hung 

himself while she slept, but if she wakes ” Mabrice 

drew a long sharp stiletto from her hair. “ We can 
bury her in the garden thicket.” 

“ You shall be a Duchess for this ! ” whispered 
Amaury to her. “Aye ! Tell him a messenger from 
Naples waits — now 1 ” 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 237 

Mabrice flitted into her father’s room from the 
passage, like some soft dark bat, and the others, 
headed by Beltramo, pushed softly like foxes into a 
covert into the anteroom, and hid behind various 
curtains ; but Amaury and Bertrand, with drawn 
daggers, kept the passage door, like the hunt’s 
prickers. Duke Charles stood before his wife’s door, 
feeling sure his heart-beats were loud enough to waken 
her, while Guy did sentry to the Queen. 

Mabrice opened the door between her father’s 
room and Andrea’s, and by the pale golden flame of 
the night-lamp saw that across the wide bed-foot, a 
woman slept, her head wrapped in a Hungarian 
caftan, and shoeless, but otherwise fully dressed. 
The Prince lay on his back, his mouth half open, his 
breathing deep, his face white in the shadow of his 
hair. Mabrice shut the door, then slid across to the 
anteroom door and opened it soundlessly, to seem as 
if she had entered by it. 

Then she crept back, and with her cool hand 
touched Andrea’s cheek, so as to wake him gradu- 
ally. 

Jehanne slept uneasily upon the Abbot’s soft bed. 
She tossed, turned, and finally dreamed fitfully that 
she walked in her garden again with Louis, but that 
Andrea appeared threatening him with drawn poign- 
ard. She flung herself between them, felt the steel’s 
hot agony in her breast, and a warm flood over her 
hand. The fantastic terror woke her, to find that her 
hand did dangle wetly down the bedside, for she had 
overturned a cup of wine in her struggles — a cup 
which she had not drunk, to Filippa’s secret dismay. 


238 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


The streaming moonlight showed her red patches of 
it on her nightrobe, so she noiselessly rose and changed 
it for a long crimson dressing-gown. She lay down 
again, but not to sleep. 

She drew Louis’s ring from its chain in her laces, 
and putting it on her finger nursed her hand lovingly 
and mused long. But the nightmare lingered, and 
filled her with evil presentiments, and her black 
wonders of the past rose sharply. What would 
happen — how, when ? Foolishness ! Had not 
Amaury sworn no harm should be done ? Yet 
unbelief in him cried out loudly to her reason ; 
instinct’s voice said, “ There is more 1 ” She 
blunted this sharp spur with the saddle-padding of 
timid procrastination, and dreamed on. 

But suddenly, with a faint rustle, Sancia slipped 
from her little bed, and crawled rather than moved to 
the door opposite Jehanne’s couch, knelt by the key- 
hole and listened intently. With a lazy fascination 
Jehanne watched through her lashes, when suddenly 
an iron fear gripped her mind, for a faintest foot- 
padding, felt rather than heard, struck her dread- 
sharpened senses. As Sancia knelt, her two long thin 
plaits of black hair over her white night rail, brought 
the Rope and Wheel to Jehanne’s quick thought. 
Black ropes ! Ugh ! They would bind Andrea with 
ropes — what ? Were they doing it now ? Samson 
— Delilah — ah ! what if Amaury lied, and they were 
hanging, strangling Andrea now ? The fear was 
hideous, and yet she could not move, but gripped her 
hand, over its fellow, with the ring. 

It must be a dream — it could not be real, that she 
should lie there quiet, voiceless, holding Louis’s ring, 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 239 


while they slew Andrea without ! A dream — yet 
what did Sancia kneel there for in the night ? 

A little choking cough rose in her mouth, and 
instantly Sancia was at the bedside strangely alert, 
and asking with slightly unsteady tone : 44 What ails 
my Queen ? ” 

“ An evil dream. Sancia, what is a-foot to-night ? 
Why were you up ? ” She seized the Sicilian’s hands, 
and they shook more than her own. 

44 Naught ! I thought I heard Duke Charles walk 
by — perchance he is sick,” stammered Sancia, but 
Jehanne was not blinded. 

46 1 heard more feet. Sancia, you are keeping it 
from me : ’tis to-night the Prince has to be carried 
off.” 

44 Well, you knew — It had to be, It is all being 
done very well. Ah, forgive me — lie down ! ” With 
desperation’s strength she pushed Jehanne on her 
back again, and held her by the shoulders, helpless. 

44 Let me up ! I must see, know — Madonna ! It 
is worse than that — Sancia ! Loose me lest I hurt 
you — ah ! — — ” 

For a moment they wrestled, and then with a twist 
Jehanne slipped from bed, gained her feet, and made 
for the door ; but Sancia, tripping her heel, they 
clutched one another on the floor. 

44 Santa Lucia ! For heaven’s sake be still, be- 
loved ! You ruin all ! ” gasped Sancia. 44 You must 
not go — sight of you would madden the Prince ! 
Wait five minutes, and then you shall ask the Sieur 
des Baux — he will tell you they do but bind him. 
Forgive me, my dear ! ” 

Jehanne stood up, quite quiet, though her breath 


240 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


laboured, her gaze fixed fiercely intent upon the door, 
as she silently listened with all her might. A terrible 
war was waged in her soul again as her fears blazed up. 
If — if — they were doing murder despite all — it was 
her deliverance sure and certain — her freedom, her 
open gate to Louis ! Should she rush and prevent 
it ? It was like a dreadful fresco she had seen of the 
Weighing of Souls in the Judgment. In one scale 
lay love, in the other honour. Louis, Andrea — Andrea, 
Louis ! The balancing drove her mad, but suddenly 
the ghastly riddle solved itself. 

Three or four quick thuds on the floor without 
were felt, soft feet padded away — then silence. Next 
loud in the quiet rose a long wild wail of a woman — 
unmistakable for aught but utter despair. 

With a leap Jehanne escaped Sancia and got at the 
door, the passage — dark as any mine. She reached 
the anteroom of Andrea, and stayed there one fearful 
instant, as if stricken into stone. 

Meanwhile Andrea, at Mabrice’s touch, opened his 
eyes. 

“ What is it ? ” he murmured sleepily. 

“ The Queen sent me to ask your Majesty to come 
to her in the anteroom. She has had important 
news,” said Mabrice in her velvet whisper, praying 
inwardly that Isolda would sleep on. 

He slipped from the clothes, and she saw with 
surprise that he, too, wore his long day-hose and white 
shirt, as if he had expected a hasty rousing, but 
while she wondered, he snatched up a loose robe, and 
went from the fatal door. Noiselessly she shut it 
behind him, and then the one from her father’s room 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 241 


opened, and he with a gleam of steel in hand, stood 
over the sleeping woman. Niccolo di Milazzo came 
in, too, and noting the bolt was missing from the ante- 
room door, thrust his sheathed stiletto into the 
staples. Andrea amazedly found the anteroom 
perfectly dark, but as the girl shut the door at his 
back, the lamplight from behind just showed him a 
dark figure, which sprang — and Beltramo’s wrestler- 
grip choked the voice from his throat. Yet he 
wriggled furiously, and as Beltramo’s foot caught in 
a rug, he got free, but gasped too much to call. His 
sword lay on his bed — oh, unutterable folly to have 
left it ! The door was fast as he fell against it, then 
madly plunged forward for the other door in the 
murky gloom. But even as he leapt, a jerk came at 
his throat. The silken rope was about it, and ran 
taut ! 

A gurgling half-scream came from him : “ Tomaso 
— Stefan ! Ahi — aid ! ” He fell to the floor, writh- 
ing, tearing, beating at the air, as other hands seized 
his legs and wrists. 

His limbs stiffened in a frightful convulsion, his 
eyes rolled up, his tongue turned in his mouth ; but 
the last thing he saw was that the room was light again 
and full of men. Then Prince Andrea gasped and 
died. But even as the conspirators watched the end 
by the lamp’s light (brought in by Bertrand) a shriek 
came through the bedroom door. 

Isolda was awake. “ Andrea ! — oh, my Andrea ! 
Help ! ” she screamed at top pitch. Taking Mabrice 
by the neck she flung her backwards like a pillow, 
and gained the passage by the outer door, ere Niccolo 
could grasp her, and though he knocked her head 

R 


242 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


against the wall, that shriek was the end of all 
secrecy. Jehanne’s door opened — and Marie’s ! 

Into the room of death rushed Pierre de Lascaris, 
wild-eyed, with : “ All’s up, Amaury ! Friar Robert 
and an escort are come from Naples. I let him in and 
slammed the gate into the others’ faces. He told me 
that a Hungarian army has entered Naples, but the 
Empress holds the Castel ” 

“ Where is the friar ? St. Honorat ! Where ? ” 
cried Bertrand. 

Pierre held up his wet red dagger. 

“ I rolled him into an open grave in the cloisters, 
and shoved in the earth,” he said briefly. 

It was the most terrible moment in an appalling 
whole, but Amaury recovered first, and pointed a 
steady finger at the gruesome Thing on the floor. The 
mouth was set stiff already, in that ghastly O peculiar 
to the strangled, and the lips were frothed. 

“ Are we going to be caught standing here ? What’s 
to fear in him ? Set that stool overturned just below 
that hook — so ! ” 

The limp Thing’s head rolled on the neck absurdly 
horrible as the two Artois lifted it mechanically, 
while Bertrand cast the loose rope-end over an iron 
lamp-hook in the wall, which seemed strong but 
which tore from the plaster as if refusing the horrid 
weight. 

The Thing slipped from their half-relaxed grips to 
the floor. 

“ Curse the fool ! ” growled Amaury, with a sweep- 
ing survey of the walls. “ No other possible hook ! 

Hell ! Yet — a thought ” He swiftly undid the 

long window, whose marble balcony-rail gleamed 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 243 


white. “ He might have done it over here. Bad 
place, but possible. Quick ! for our lives, bring him 
hither ! ” 

But just as they bore It across the room, with its 
dangling head and feet, Jehanne slipped under Guy’s 
impeding arm, and stood clutching at the wall for 
balance. 

They all halted, and stared at her. 

Then she sprang from the wall, and was close to 
them. 

“Assassins ! Oh, assassins ! ” she said very low. 

Breathing sharply, Amaury stepped between her 
and — It. 

“ You must get hence, adoree,” he said quietly. 

“ No ! no ! Murderer ! O horrible deed ! ” Her 
lips parted, her eyes glared ; she would shriek next 
instant. That must be prevented at all cost, and 
Amaury calmly lifted her, tall woman though she was, 
like a child, and only released that clasp of steel 
when he set her down in Andrea’s room. Then as her 
lips opened he covered them with gentle but firm 
hand. 

“ If you scream we are dead men all, and you dis- 
honoured ! ” he said. 

“ Murderer ! ’’ she threw at him ; but he heeded it 
not, and went on : 

“ Calm thee, my Jehanne ! ’Twas for thee, thou 
knowest — I have sold my soul to free thee, to claim 
this dear price. Nay, this is but frenzy — beloved ! ” 

In dimness as in some red delirium’s whirl, she felt 
him kiss her lips with a touch that fairly scorched 
with passion, and though she was too stunned to do 
anything but lie passive in his arms just then, she 


244 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


was denied the mercy of unconsciousness. She rallied 
and looked into his eyes with their wild wolfish 
desires. 

“ Amaury — traitor, I hate you ! 5 5 she said, each 
deliberate word cold as a drop of ice. He searched 
her face one baffled glimpse of time, and found the 
amazing truth ; but he was not the man to admit 
or accept defeat, and rose to the occasion now as 
valiantly as ever he did to a fight. 

He laughed shortly. “Well played, most seemly, 
cherie ! Love ! love ! As if I could not wait ! My 

Jehanne — my Ha, Holy Shroud ! What is it ? ” 

for Mabrice flew in, her hand bleeding, her hair 
unbound. 

“ That damned Isolda gained her senses, and is 
hammering at the Abbot’s door. The fool Niccolo 
let her slip instead of stabbing her ! I tried ! ” 

Guy de Montleon was in by the other door. 

“ The men outside suspect — as the friar comes not 
out — and are breaking open the gate. What can we 
do, Amaury ? ” 

Amaury turned to Jehanne. “ We must hence 
now ! Get her gear in a sack, Filippa, and in 
half-an-hour we will be far. Are they many, 
Guy ? ” 

“ I will not go — I will denounce it all ! I am a 
murderess too ! ” raved Jehanne wildly. “ I con- 
sented — ah ! ” 

Noise rose from without, poundings on the gate, 
monks stirring within. Amaury glanced desperately 
round as Bertrand des Baux came in, his mantle 
wrapped round his left arm, his great sword drawn. 

“ If the monks and Ban learn the truth from that 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 245 

Isolda, we had best fight our way to Casaluce,” he 
said. 

“ Aye, but give me that cloak, Bertrand,” said 
Amaury, glancing at Jehanne ; and ere she could 
struggle or scream, he had whipped its thick folds 
over her head, and lifting her like a doll, strode out 
of the room and along to the outer staircase leading 
to the garden. 

Rough grip and smothering cloth finished her 
endurance, and she fainted dead away. 

“ Fate favours us ! She swoons,” said Amaury, 
feeling her grow limp, to Bertrand, who followed 
closely. “ Get thy destrier quickly, and out by the 
back gate. Then for Baia as the devil were behind, 
and sail for Garde Joyeuse. She will protest at first — 
heed not but hold her safe. I will come in a few 
days. Thou hast the Seal — hence ! ” 

They crossed the garden to the postern leading to 
the Guest House stables, and Bertrand took Jehanne 
from his accomplice, who hastily turned to remount 
the stairs. Suddenly he saw the dread Thing which 
swung from the balcony, and involuntarily shuddered 
for the first time that night. Then he started, for 
from the dark oleander bushes of the garden, crooned 
a weird haunting voice, like some echo of the riot 
in his brain. 

“ Sieur Amaury de la Garde Joyeuse, 

Prends garde & toi — ton honneur baisse son voile ! 

Sieur Amaury de la Garde J oyeuse. 

La Reine n’est pas, ni ne sera ton etoile ! ” 

All the superstitions he had crowded upon him, and 
his very hair bristled. The night grew alive with 
evil things, for who but a fiend could know here of 


246 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Garde Joyeuse ? Yet he drew, and dashed straight 
for the bushes, but — there was nothing there ! Only 
a faint little laugh chuckled derisively from a far 
corner. Ugh ! this was too much. He rushed up the 
stairs as if pursued by demons. 

Marek, disguised as a beggar, rose quietly and crept 
below the balcony to hear yet more. 

The other conspirators stood blankly in the fatal 
room, when Amaury entered again, but before he 
could address them, a figure with scared white face 
and streaming golden-bronze hair, drifted in — 
Jehanne, or her wraith ? 

u Duchess Marie ! ” from several mouths. “ Maria 
mia ! Go away ! ” from Sancia (Filippa had van- 
ished to get Jehanne’s necessaries, and had not 
returned). 

“ Gentlemen, behold Queen Jehanne comes ! 
Majesty, we pray you retire ! ” said Amaury superbly. 

“ What madness now ? ” asked Duke Charles, not 
understanding. 

“ Sanity, Duke. Your Duchess must don her 
sister’s veil. I have put the Queen m safety for 
a while : it is needful, for even if the Hungarians 
capture your wife they cannot harm her — she is not 
Queen Jehanne ! She will pass, for weeping queens 
are not close-eyed by the mob. * You must go at once 
to Casaluce and take Mabrice di Pace in your wife’s 
mantle. I have prepared all ! ” 

“ Where is Jehanne ? Where is the Prince ? ” 
faltered Marie with a wild look round ; and then, 
seeing Terlizzi and Niccolo look at the open window, 
she guessed, and ere they could stop her, had reached 
it — seen What hung — and fainted on the balcony. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 247 


between whose pillars fell her loose hair, mingling 
with the very rope. 

“ Ah ! ” quoth Terlizzi with a terrible smile. 
“ Excellent ! Queen Jehanne faints upon discovering 
her husband’s suicide ! ” 

Sancia came in, and hurriedly threw over the 
Duchess Jehanne’s discarded night rail. 

Confusion was buzzing in the Convento, and the 
whole of the conspirators, with the promptness of a 
well-drilled army, obeyed unquestioningly Amaury’s 
orders. The Duke and Mabrice vanished together, 
while Guy, only pausing to unlock the door of the 
Ban’s room as he passed, dropped with infinite relief 
on to the highroad through an open window. Then 
he made for Casaluce, en route for Naples, to bring 
the reinforcements to escort the false Queen to her 
capital. 

Save for those who had drunk Niccolo’s powdered 
wines, the whole Convento rose, the front gate was 
undone, and Friar Robert’s little escort swarmed in, 
asking questions, just as Bertrand des Baux, on his 
great grey destrier, his precious burden in his arm, 
swept out by the back. 

The Abbot, though somewhat dazed with sleep, 
rose and went up to the room, and stopped petrified 
when he saw the group there. 

But Amaury stepped forward instantly. 

“ Father, terrible doings here I Prince Andrea has 
gone mad and hung himself, and the Queen is dis- 
traught over it. See ! ” 

But even as he spoke, Isolda like an avenging fury 
stood there. 

“ Liar ! Andrea was murdered ! I was there ! 


248 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Why wear you all day-gear in the dead of night ? I 
am the axe of justice ” speech failed her. 

“ Nay, Father, this woman is mad ! The Prince 
and Queen were together, as he felt ailing he said, and 
then he requested her to fetch him a draught of wine 
from her chamber. When she returned he hung 
there — see, the wine hath stained her robe ! She 
shrieked, and we came, for we had robed on hearing 
the clamour at the gate below — She told us this ere 
she swooned.” But before the peaceable, dazed 
Abbot could reply, the Ban of Wallachia rushed in, 
his sword drawn. 

One glance from the window told him all, and he 
turned as a boar does ere it charges. He rushed for 
Amaury, but the Abbot threw himself between. 

“ Accursed Savoy, this is your work ! ” howled the 
Ban. 

“ This is no time to war, boiar — have you no 
decency ? ” asked the Abbot. He indicated the heap 
of white robe and gold hair by the window. 

“ No ! None ! ” roared the Ban, and made for 
Savoy again, but the Abbot hung on to his shoulders, 
and Amaury with sheathed blade stepped back. 

Then the storm broke. Isolda’s shouted accusa- 
tions to the friar’s men and the Hungarians of 
the Prince’s train, had their effect, and unawed by 
either Queen or Abbot’s presence, they stormed the 
room, yelling, demanding, threatening, brandishing 
weapons. 

“ Fall to, lads ! ” said Amaury grimly. “ We must 
hew our way to Naples I see.” Beltramo, pick up her 
Majesty and follow me ! ” And as the swords darted 
and flashed in the torch-flare, and the moans began to 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 249 


mix with the yells, the trumpets of the men from 
Casaluce blared out at the Convento gate. 

The Red Count’s way was cleared to Naples, and 
meanwhile the Grand Justicer was bearing Queen 
Jehanne far from her kingdom. 


CHAPTER XVI 


Along the quiet Roman roads to Baise, running 
between sleeping farms and villas, there was a steady 
beat of hooves. Aversa and its terrors sank behind, 
the night was less dark, and as his big destrier plunged 
its heavy gallop through the dust, Bertrand des Baux 
drew freer breath than for long. His men rode behind 
silent as ghosts, the close wrapped burden of his 
shield-arm never stirred. He shifted his rein to his 
teeth, and undid the cloak over her head. It lay 
against his shoulder, a white oval of face in a sinister 
setting of crimson cloth ; Bertrand, spite of himself 
crept, and pulled it away till her hair lay next his 
green cotte hardie. 

“ St. Gilles ! This is a long faint ! ” he thought. 
“ But better than another outcry. Her breathing is 
even enough. Hold up, horse ! You bear a kingdom 
on your grey back ! ” 

Thud, thud, the pounding hooves sped, but Jehanne 
lay silent, and the coast-breeze smelt salt before 
she even sighed. Then as they heard the wave- 
splash, and the white dust turned to yellow sand, 
under the hooves, her senses knew the jolt of the 
mortal world again as incarnate in the grey destrier’s 
stride. 

“ Where am I ? ” her faint lips asked. 

“ In safety, my Queen. It is only Des Baux who 
250 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 251 


holds you. All is well, we are nearly at Baiae. See, 
there lies our galley ” 

He pointed it to her as if she were a child, feeling 
oddly helpless with her. 

“ Ah ! ” she sighed and droused off again, rather to 
his relief. 

The open strand of old world, Roman memoried, 
luxurious Baiae fronted them, and welcome sight, just 
off the Molo, Amaury’s own swift galley La Savoyarde , 
swung at anchor, her lanterns burning cheerfully, 
her deck- watch moving alertly about. 

Then only Bertrand drew rein, and raised his hawk- 
ing whistle with keen delight. Instantly a boat was 
lowered, and shot towards the Molo through the 
slight tumble of inky water, and in ten minutes Ber- 
trand laid his burden on a silken couch in a brilliantly 
lighted cabin, while without the sailors were setting 
sail with all speed. 

Amaury’s crew was a picked one, as usual, and 
presently the ship plunged seawards, even while Ber- 
trand was bending over Jehanne in the cabin, which 
was sweet with the scent of roses, and ready with all 
comforts for the voyage. 

She sighed and opened her eyes as the new motion 
of the ship roused her, and then sharply sat up, with 
the swift question : 

“ What means this — ? Where am I ? Bertrand 
des Baux, what do you here ? ” 

Then suddenly the full recollection of the night’s 
dreadful deeds rushed upon her. 

“ Ah — my God 1 Andrea is dead ! I slew him — 
at least ” 

She hid her face on the pillow again, and Ber- 
trand stooped over her and touched her shoulder 


252 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


gently with the awkwardness of a man soothing a 
child. 

“ Not you, my Queen — Eh, Madonna ! Know you 
not there were a dozen others to the deed ? It was 
to save both you and Naples ! ” 

“ Naples ? Then why am I here — away ? Where 
is Amaury ? ” 

“ Wait, wait, Altesse ! Amaury had to stay behind, 
and fight his way out. True ! I forgot — You had 
swooned, look you, and word came that Hungary 
hath kept his threats, and that an army was in 
Naples, and so Amaury deemed you safest till he 
had driven it thence again. Thus I brought you 
away, and now we sail for Provence, where Amaury 
will join us anon — Then you will be safe and happy 
again ” 

She had listened to his smooth words like one in 
some dreadful dream, but the last phrase struck 
through its dimness. 

“ Happy ! Amaury shall die ! He is an assassin ! 
He has shamed me before the whole world ! He 
usurps my power ! I saw him unmasked this night — 
Hungarian army in my Naples ? O saints ! I am 
like to run mad ! Ruined ! Mad ! Ah — ah — ah — ! ” 

She sprang up and paced the cabin in a perfect 
frenzy, staggering as the floor swayed with the sea. 
Bertrand eyed her in utter embarrassment. He ex- 
pected an outburst of sorts, but not this. There was 
no love for Amaury in Queen Jehanne’s revelations — 
Suppose ? 

He tried another soothing salve. 

“ Calm you, I implore you, my dearest liege ! This 
is a passing horror of your noble spirit’s disgust at — 
the Prince’s death — But it had to be 1 He plotted 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 253 


your death, he would have reft your very honour from 
you ! Heavens, Majesty ! We had to do it — Why, 
to save you, every man of us would have gone hot-foot 
to hell 1 — and some of us are like to do so, seeing how 
things turned out when — it failed — Reflect — You 
must see there was no other way.” 

“ By San Gennaro I will have the assassin’s head ! ” 
she raved, staring wildly about her. A very faint 
smile lit the Grand Justicer’s lips. 

“ Eh, then, you will have a busy time, Altesse — 
for there are a good twenty and more of us — 
beginning with the Empress, and Duke Charles, and 
Marzano — ” 

Jehanne sobered slightly, and sank upon the couch 
again. 

“ Madonna ! I was forgetting ! ” she murmured. 

“ But I never realised it was death thus ! Oh ” 

She hid her face again in despair, and Bertrand be- 
thought him it was time to quieten her by other 
means. 

On the table stood a tall gold aiguiere of wine, 
and a cup set with amethysts, and he filled the cup, 
standing with his back to her, and dropping into it a 
little something from a ring he slipped from his girdle- 
pouch. 

“ But we must return to Naples — Go, order the 
captain to turn sail — It is utter madness to say 
we go to Provence ! I will not ! Amaury is 
crazed ! ” 

“ We must go ! You cannot re-enter Naples, 
while it swarms with the foe ! How could you ? 
Be wise, Altesse ! Amaury will clear your way 
first ” 

“ I will behead him ! He is an assassin ! He is 


254 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Judas ! I loathe him ! I command you to obey me ! 
Give orders at once — or I will ! ” 

Unhappy Des Baux was beaten at last. He could 
find no further padding to keep her from the hard 
truth — that she was his prisoner. He set his broad 
back against the door just as she dashed for it, and 
faced her sternly, his fingers deftly turning the key as 
he stood thus. 

“ Nay — O Majesty, make it no harder for me — I 
have sworn to Amaury to take you safely ! I cannot 
help it — Pray, pray calm you — You must not go up 
on deck thus — It is not known you are the Queen — 
It is thought you are a prisoner to Savoy, and the men 
are all Savoyards — They would not heed any orders 
but mine — Your dignity — eh, I appeal to you ! Sit 
you I pray, and hear my explanation of matters — 
Duchess Marie donned your veil and robe, and will 
ride into Naples as Queen. You will not be shamed 
by having it thought you have fled from your realm ! 
If you betray yourself now, what will be said ? Think 
of proving your innocence if — there is any question 
about the — deed — ” 

Poor Jehanne felt her brain turning. She was 
trapped, held fast, and for the moment completely 
bereft of arguments. 

She sat down again, faint and sick with horror. 

Bertrand, having safely worried the key from the 
door into his cuissart-pouch, stepped to the table, and 
lifting the cup held it to her lips as if she were a 
child. Choking with her anger and distress, her 
throat was parched, and she drank deeply, reckless of 
the strange taste of the wine. 

“ When Amaury comes, you can talk with him,” 
soothed Bertrand. “ Then you ean return to Naples 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 255 


and do your will. But I put my hands in his, and 
swore to aid him in the matter — I am bound by my 
oath, my Queen.” 

“ You are my vassal before his ! Disloyal hound ! 
For the last time I bid you free me ! ” 

Bertrand set down the cup and knelt to her. 

“ Majesty, I implore you to keep calm till Amaury 
comes — Then you can ask my head of him if he fails 
to persuade you that what was done was inevitable, 
and needful for your good ! It cuts me to the soul to 
feel your wrath ! And if you are not safe when he 
comes, I shall be slain by him, and you — but enough ! 
You must come quietly and safely with me. All will 
yet be well.” He talked on, persuading, entreat- 
ing, to gain time, for he noted with relief that her 
breaths were longer drawn. Presently she checked a 
yawn. 

Then she tried to rise and sank back again, the sleep 
gaining her limbs. 

“ Treacherous beast ! ” she cried, with a final effort. 
“ You would slay me ! Out of my sight ! I will at 
least die alone ! Hence ! ” 

She fell across the couch, and Bertrand gently lifted 
and straightened her out upon it, throwing over her a 
silken rug with deliberate care, heedless of her furious 
eyes and clenching fingers. 

“ Lie quiet, my Queen ! I shall not risk vexing 
you again during all the voyage ! ” he said tranquilly 
enough. “ If you wish to come up on deck, your 
guards will warn me, and I will keep out of your 
sight. Mary, aid me, I cannot face your wrath 
again.” 

Jehanne tried to speak but the sleep gained her, 
and with closing eyes she saw a little brown 


256 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Proven 9 ale maiden come in, and heard Bertrand say 
to her : 

“You will watch Madame the Countess all night, 
and attend her every want ! ” 

Then the sleep sank down, and she knew no more 
till day. 

The noon-day sun shone in through the cabin ports 
before Queen Jehanne awoke to the new day. When 
the full consciousness of what had happened over- 
night rushed back upon her, she lay and moaned to 
herself. 

Then from the dark thought-whirl came one great 
thought. Andrea was dead 1 Swift behind it came 
another — Was she held guilty ? Bertrand’s words 
last eve were some comfort. She sorted them out in 
her mind. “ There were twenty others of us in it ! ” 
Yea, so there were, and she Jehanne had been their 
tool ! Could she blame herself so much as she had 
done, argued her saner, daylight reason ? 

Yet how would the others confront Naples, and 
their Hungarian accusers ? She fell on her knees, and 
covered her eyes from the sunlight. 

Then suddenly came a strange thing. As she knelt 
there on the borderland of swooning, the mist before 
her brain seemed to clear away, and she was leaning 
from her window over the sunny terrace of Castel 
Nuovo, and Foulquet le Courtois’ cheerful face 
looked up ; she heard once more the refrain of a little 
song he had sung : 

(t Ma douce amie, le temps se passe ! 

L’ ombre ne dure pas toujours, 

De tout filet le fil se casse. 

A toute peine arrive le secours ! ” 

And in that flash rose another face — that of Louis ! 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 25? 


Louis ! She heard once again his certain voice, 
saw his tranquil, reassuring farewell smile ! 

“ When I return thou wilt be free ! ” 

It was like a powerful elixir to her soul, and it 
seemed to wash the bloodstains of terror of the last 
few terrible hours from her. She began to pray very 
fast. Counsel seemed to come to her in that prayer, 
and she who had sunk down Jehanne, the overwrought 
hunted woman, rose up Jehanne the Anjevine 
warrioress, ready to front her foes right royally. She 
saw how she had been led by Amaury, clear as in a 
mirror — she knew that she must cease to lament, to 
accuse herself. If she had not given her barons 
power even for the capture, they would have done it 
despite herl So much Bertrand’s hasty admissions 
had revealed. Need she then torture herself so 
much ? 

She had seen Amaury in his true light last night, 
and she could not think now that she had done amiss 
in trifling with him, seeing how he had been swaying 
her to gain his own murderous ends. 

Power ! That had been his love — not her ! But 
she owned Love of the True now — Louis ! She smiled 
with a joy nothing could cloud — until she noted the 
locked door of her cabin, and knew herself prisoner to 
Amaury still. But she would foil him — she would 
escape ! Bah ! What was Amaury, to one like 
Louis ? Louis would be told by some one, or would 
himself discover her plight, and then — Eh, by the 
Furies ! When once she was free again, Bertrand 
and Amaury should know what Anjou’s anger 
meant ! But then she began to think of the other 
plotters, and it set her shaking with sick disgust 
again. Empress Catherine — Aunt Catherine, and 
s 


258 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Filippa — her own Filippa — had been parties to that 
horror ! 

She sat there and turned it all over in her mind till 
her head reeled, trying to grasp the baseness, the cun- 
ning, and ambition which had led the whole pack astray. 
Marzano ! Even her good old Marzano had joined in, 
she knew, because from what Catherine had told her 
of matters, she knew practically all that passed, ex- 
cepting the veiled Fact that Murder had been intended 
from the first. Now her full knowledge was a lurid 
lantern on every point she had wondered about, when 
they had been telling her before. What use now for 
her, Jehanne, their poor, trusting fool, to tear her soul 
with remorse ? This reason was of so much comfort 
that she began to plot and plan escapes, none of 
which were possible, seeing that she was alone in the 
cabin, and that every plunge of the galley was taking 
her farther from the confusion which must be reigning 
in Naples. 

She knew that whatever she felt inclined to do to 
punish the plotters she must modify, because though 
she could slay Amaury, she could not touch the 
Empress, Charles, or Marzano — nay, nor yet the 
others ! 

They were her most trusted supporters — her life- 
long friends — and yet they had done this thing ! 
She gave up thinking about this, and turned to her 
golden thoughts of Louis once again. 

Finette, the little maid, came in and found her 
smiling an hour after. She was a trim, slim little 
girl about fifteen, daughter to one of the sailors, who 
came from Saut du Loup by Grasse, and she served 
the nameless great lady with infinite respect, unpack- 
ing her gowns from the sack so hastily stuffed by 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 259 


Filippa in terrible Aversa, and bearing in a dainty 
meal with deft skill. 

Soon the pressing question rose in Jehanne’s 
mind : 

“ Whither in Provence am I bound ? ” but she 
dared not ask the girl for various reasons. 

So she wrote upon a slip of parchment : “ I would go 
up on deck awhile. I pledge you my word I will not 
leap overboard. Where are we going ? ” sealed, and 
bid her give it to the Sieur des Baux. 

Bertrand’s squire soon appeared with a note equally 
brief. 

“ Have your will, Madonna. Garde Joyeuse.” 

Garde Joyeuse ! She remembered a tale of a 
perfect ogres’ hold Amaury owned in Savoy and 
shuddered, but then collected her courage and 
followed the squire up on deck. 

He arranged a couch for her, and she lay in the sun- 
light watching the brown sails and rigging flapping in 
the fresh breeze under the sapphire sky, and the gaily 
clad sailors with their quaint earrings and gay 
scarves ran about, and climbed the cordage. 

They seemed, as Bertrand said, all Proven^aux, and 
Jehanne sought deeply how she might bribe one to 
escape once they reached the land. 

She thought of the squire, but he was a stolid, 
rather stupid youth from Toulouse, with no ideas 
beyond painting a shield or trapping a steed, and so 
she dismissed him from her mind as impossible, and 
lay all the afternoon in sheer perplexity, desperately 
endeavouring not to let her memory seek the 
past 

Meanwhile the galley plunged faster and faster to- 
wards the Alpes Maritimes, yet the pursuing ship she 


260 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


was always hoping to spy following them, never 
show r ed, and she grew impatient and desperate. 

She began not knowing at first how she might use 
it, to lure the maid Finette into adoring her, with such 
arts as she was past-mistress in. 

By the morning they neared the end of the voyage, 
Finette fairly worshipped the strange, great lady, 
and had confided all her little secrets to her. How 
she was glad to be at Ventimiglia again, as she had a 
lover, one Matthieu, so smart a lad, who lived with an 
old mother on the shore below the Chateau. How he 
had a boat of his own, for all he was vassal to the Las- 
caris, and how she hoped to wed him when he had 
another one, all this Finette told. 

The morning they made Ventimiglia, Jehanne, lay- 
ing in her small trinket casket the few trifles she had 
brought with her to Aversa, and which Filippa had 
thrust into the sack along with her robes, found a parch- 
ment slip. It was a roundel which Foulquet du Bar had 
made and given her at Castel Nuovo, just as she was 
riding out to Aversa. It was a farewell roundel, for 
Foulquet was starting for his Chateau at Grasse for a 
few months ; she had thrust it into the bag Sancia 
carried behind, meaning to read it later. 

It inspired her with the thought that if she could 
but reach Grasse, Foulquet would shelter her against 
any Des Baux in Provence, and see that she got back 
to Naples. He at least had nothing to gain from 
Amaury, she reflected cynically. She turned to 
Finette. 

64 Child, would’st be wed sooner ? ” she asked. 

Finette looked puzzled, but assented readily. 

“ With all my heart, Madame Countess.” 

44 This gold arm -ring and three more like it are thine 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 261 


if thou wilt hide me in thy lover’s hut. I wish to 
go to my friend the Sieur du Bar at Grasse, and the 
Sieur des Baux wishes to prevent me — for many 
reasons. 

“ If thy lover hid me, and told the Sieur des Baux 
that I had fled into the Alpes, towards the Chateau du 
Tende, his men would rush up there, and meanwhile 
thy lad could take me in his boat to Antibes, whence 
to Grasse is easy. Wilt thou do this ? ” 

Finette nodded. 

She had the serf’s cool indifference to treachery to- 
wards any but her liege lord, and to Des Baux she owed 
no fealty, for her father and she were Du Bar’s 
vassals, and trusted to his protection even against Des 
Baux’s anger, if she were caught — and Finette was of 
Provence with its cunning. 

“ You know Du Bar’s seal ? ” said Jehanne, showing 
her Foulquet’s parchment, which luckily bore a red 
wax seal, with his crowned lion rampant. 

“ I cannot read, but that is my lord’s mark. I am 
yours, Madame Countess. Now from father I know 
we are to rest the noon-heat on the shore, and go on 
to-night. But if your Nobility feigned sickness at 
being on land again (many are so, even as others are 
sick at sea) we should stay all night. It would be easy 
to hide in the hut while Matthieu runs crying to the 
Sieur’s men that he saw a figure like you running to- 
wards the hills — then when they are gone, two of 
Matthieu’s friends will set off as if to fish — with your 
Nobility under their nets ! ” She beamed at her own 
easy invention, and Jehanne bestowed upon her a 
silken kerchief at once. 

Jehanne drew round her head a soft Spanish veil, 
and went up on deck to see the long low shore of 


262 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Ventimiglia, behind which towered the mighty 
Alpes Maritimes, their dark flanks showing majestic- 
ally sombre in the brilliant gold sunlight. The 
fresh breeze blew over their soaring peaks and down 
to the little cluster of fishing huts on the shore, high 
over which hung the Chateau of the Comtes of 
Ventimiglia, or, Proven£al, Vintimille, where dwelt 
Pierre de Lascaris’ younger brother. Unluckily 
Jehanne had never met him, or she could have 
hoped he would appear on the scene and at her 
story defy Des Baux ; for Bertrand had only about 
twenty men-at-arms with him, and the galley’s 
sailors, while the Chateau towered in its force. 

Sweet scents of trees and flowers blew from land- 
wards, as if Provence the Golden greeted its Countess. 
Jehanne felt her spirits rise. 

Bertrand came on deck and approached her with 
embarrassment, but she spoke before he could. 

“ I see we must journey together now. Thus we 
had best avoid vital subjects. I shall make your task 
no harder by pleadings,” she said, but with a coldness 
which made him wish rather that she would have 
cursed him. “ It is needless for the escort to see that 
we are unfriendly.” 

He found his tongue with difficulty. 

“ Madame — I thank you for this courtesy. I also 
will not sue forgiveness, since I know it useless. 
Be it as you will, and let simple Prove^al baron and 
lady ride in peace together.” 

They landed in the galley’s small boats, and saw 
from the Chateau’s lowered banner that the Sieur 
was absent, whereat Bertrand was glad, since it 
saved him any inquiries. 

“ No man could resist stopping me, with such a 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 263 


priceless charge, even if I do bear the great Seal of 
Provence,” he thought. 

Jehanne noted that he wore on his wrist, set in a 
great gold arm-ring (it was too heavy for a finger), 
the said Seal of the Seneschals of Provence, the Des 
Baux’ arms, most curiously designed as a heron’s 
head with a gold crown for its collar, and from its 
beak hung, as a pendant, the Sixteen-Rayed Comet 
of Des Baux. He must have got this from Hugues — 
how well the plot had been planned, even to details ! 
she reflected bitterly. 

No Sieur from Avignon to Tende would dare check 
the bearer of that warrant, and she quaked for her 
chances of escape. 

Jehanne’s cushions and baggage were brought off, 
and a place made for her to have a mid-day meal 
under an olive grove beyond the stretch of yellow 
sand, and while this was arranging she took Ber- 
trand’s arm and walked briskly up and down, 
saying she needed a stroll. He meanwhile was 
desperately uncomfortable, but tried to talk of trifles 
to her. 

The Seneschal of the Chateau sent a squire 
down to inquire the galley’s business there, but he 
on seeing the Seal merely saluted it, and returned 
again, after telling Bertrand that the Comte was 
absent on a surveying ride, but would return home 
at night. 

Suddenly Jehanne sat down, complaining of violent 
sickness and pain in her side, and Bertrand, in much 
anxiety, led her to the nearest fisher’s hut, bustled 
to have a couch spread for her, and Finette came 
running to her. She complained the hut was dirty, 
so they laid the rugs in a large empty shed used by 


264 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


the fishers for mending their nets, and here she 
remained while the long sunny day wore on, till the 
crimson and purple clouds floated behind the Alpes’ 
shadowy rocks, and the huge gnarled olives began to 
cast long dusky ghosts on the ground, as the sun sank 
westwards. 

It may be wondered that Finette was not more 
afraid of Bertrand’s wrath, but, mark, she adored 
Jehanne, and she thought that, so long as she were 
a friend of her master’s, Count Foulquet, this glorious 
lady might be served unhaltingly. So, to Bertrand’s 
constant inquiries as to how Madame did, she answered 
always that Madame slept, or was still sick. 

Dusk dropped, and, cursing inwardly at the delay, 
he gave orders to camp on the shore. 

The fishers' lit a great fire on the shore, and stood 
a big cauldron of pitch over it to repair two of their 
boats, while Bertrand’s men cooked at ease over a 
smaller one some yards away. 

In the shadows nearer to the sea beyond both 
blazes a boat was drawn up, which Finette with glee 
told Jehanne belonged to Matthieu. He, a tall, 
brown-skinned, merry-faced lad, was lounging about 
with the others, waiting for darker night ere he gave 
the false alarm. 

Finette turned the lamp out in the hut, intending 
to go join them by the fire, so that she might presently 
run to the hut and cry the Countess was absent, and 
risk them searching below the pile of rugs where 
Jehanne planned to lie, till all the men should have 
followed Matthieu’s jack-a’-lanthorn cry that he had 
seen the lady run to the hills. 

But Fate stepped in as if to her aid. Torches 
gleamed on the Chateau’s drawbridge, and darker 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 265 


specks in the glow showed the Comte and his men 
had returned, and were winding again down to the 
shore to greet the strangers. Jehanne spied this 
through the hole in the shed, and said : 

“ This falls well ! The Sieur des Baux and the 
men will go to meet them. See thou, Finette, I 
might slip out and hide under the nets in Matthieu’s 
boat. Go, speak with him unseen and tell him, so 
that he will tell his friends to search it and declare 
none is there. Here is the arm-ring. Farewell, good 
wenchlet ! ” 

Finette knelt, kissed her hands in thanks, and with, 
“ All the saints guard your dear Nobility ! ” slipped 
away. 

Jehanne, her heart leaping painfully fast, wrapped 
her dark cloak close and crept out on the shadowy 
shore, now quite deserted ; for Bertrand and his band 
had gone en masse to meet the Comte, and the other 
fishers also to greet their Seigneur. Jehanne, swift 
and silent as a lynx, climbed up into the little craft 
and lay hidden under a pile of nets. 

Yet her high-strung senses now made her hearing 
almost supernaturally sharp, and she heard clearly 
what passed. A long, shrill cry of dismay rose. 
Finette acted her part. Then Bertrand’s deep roar, 
and a quick patter of hooves and feet, told the search 
was up and the troop alert. Jehanne wondered what 
Bertrand was explaining to the Comte — perhaps only 
that she was prisoner to Savoy, but she had more 
to divert her mind, for now the sailors padded about 
the boat with silent bare feet. A torch flared above 
her, through the heavy net-meshes, but she lay 
perfectly flat, and her cloak was also dark brown, by 
good hap, and they passed by, 


266 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Then Bertrand’s voice quite close. 

“ Little cat, why left you the hut ? Where is 
Madame ? ” 

“ I know not, messire. She was gone, ’tis all ! ” 
from Finette. 

“ Search her, men ! Bribes oft blind folk ! ” 

“ A gold arm-ring, messire ! Is this the lady’s ? ” 
said a man’s voice. 

Luckless Finette shrieked. Here this damning 
carelessness undid all ! Jehanne pictured Bertrand’s 
straight black brows meeting in a grim line. 

“ Trust women for wiles. But we will know. 
Unlid the pitch cauldron, you there ! ” He paused 
one moment, an eternity to trembling dumb Finette ; 
then : “ Hold her over it, men ! Now, little traitress, 
tell where Madame went, or wear a black gown ! ” 

Mark you, this was the torturing, reckless, brutal 
Middle Ages, which pardoned any crime to a noble 
committer — and Bertrand was Grand Justicer of 
Naples. Two men-at-arms held the fainting Finette 
over the black steaming mass just from the fire, and 
to Bertrand’s gesture unrolled her long sleeve and held 
her right arm lower. 

“ One — two — three — dip ! ” ordered he, as she bit 
her quavering lips. 

The burning fluid’s first touch wrung only one cry 
from the girl, but that one was a heart-rending, 
blood-halting cry, and as it died into an agonised 
moan it found Jehanne’s inner heart. She did a 
sublime thing. 

What she held at stake this chronicle may have 
barely told. Her kingdoms, her pride, her honour, 
and, most of all, her love, hung upon her escape ; 
but that one child’s cry of agony outweighed them all. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 267 


Every Anjevine has been a creature of some various 
impulse ; in King Robert it ran to Quixotism, in 
Charles of Durazzo to cruelty, and in Jehanne as in 
her grandsire. 

She stood up straight in the boat, and a flame 
from a falling log showed the tragic group by 
the fire her stern white face, like some avenging 
ghost. 

“ Halt there, Seigneur des Baux ! Your office 
does not admit of the Question Extraordinary with- 
out trial ! ” she said. 

There was not a shut mouth in the whole party, 
but Bertrand recovered instantly. 

“ Aha, Countess ! So you wished to leave us ? 
May I offer you my arm to your lodging ? ” he said 
calmly enough. 

She stepped from the boat and swept off ahead of 
him to the hut, and he, only stopping to snatch a 
firebrand to relight the lamp, followed her. She 
turned on him as the light blazed, and he saw she was 
shaking with rage. 

“ How long is this to last ? ” she demanded. 
“ Think you that I will remain your prisoner any 
longer than I can help ? You cannot hide a stolen 
Queen like a stolen dove. I shall be followed — rescued 
by those more faithful than Amaury — or I will 
slay myself to evade him ! No man shall hold 
Jehanne of Naples against her will ! Hear you that, 
vassal ? ” 

Des Baux winced, for the scorn and fire in this were 
terrible ; besides, he saw now that he had done a mad 
thing. If she baulked Amaury and gained Naples, 
he was a lost man, and even if Amaury prevailed 
with her, she would never forgive him (Bertrand) 


268 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


for her ignominious captivity now. He knew but too 
well that she was implacable for such disobediences. 
Then if she slew herself in her rage ! Eh, holy Mother ! 
that was too nightmareish to think of ! Her glorious 
person dead and buried like some common creature ! 
Blasphemy ! Yet if he broke oath to Amaury and 
set her free, then his promised Ministership, the 
Seneschalty of Provence was lost equally, for the 
throne would totter surely, if at this crisis Savoy 
turned rebel. He had, too, the mediaeval respect 
for oaths of the kind, be his other notions of honour 
what they might. Else he had never kept it thus 
far. Amaury had chosen his tool well indeed, when 
he set Bertrand to take Jehanne away thus, for there 
was no other man in Naples — nay, nor all Italy, I 
dare say — who could have withstood her supreme 
persuasions when she applied herself to subdue him. 
But women formed no part of Bertrand’s scheme of 
things, for, like Empress Catherine, Power was his 
only idol, and though he held Jehanne the loveliest 
woman he knew, it was only as some exquisite 
statue, belonging moreover to another person, that 
he eyed her. Now that her wrathful fingers threat- 
ened to push his Idol from its altar, he was desperate 
indeed. 

“ Oh, Majesty, I cannot break my oath ! ” he stam- 
mered, like some little boy. 

Her teeth fairly gritted together, and she flung at 
him but few words : 

“ Out of my sight, lest I strike you — fool ! ” 

He quitted the hut and sat upon a rock* his head 
between his hands for a good fifteen minutes. Then 
he looked up at the stars and unperturbed moon. 
To his distorted fancy, it had a faint smile on 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 269 


what children call its “ face,” for the mountains in 
it were very clear. This roused him to sudden 
anger. 

“ Damn all women 1 ” said the Queen’s High 
Justicer. 


CHAPTER XVII 


La Villa di Taranto, at Amalfi, was a pleasant 
house, pleasantest, perhaps, in its long, low, marble- 
columned loggia, which overlooked the garden slopes 
to the lovely Bay below. Upon the twentieth of 
September, when the noon sun was hot, two people 
sat upon one carven sandalwood chair in the loggia, 
and whispered happily in each other’s ears. 

Presently, at a sound in the house behind, Mar- 
guerite slipped from Francis’ knee and made great 
show of gathering roses from the nearest laden bushes 
of the garden. In her pale blue brocaded gown, with 
its deep lace collar and her pearl carcanet, she was 
changed indeed from the simple jongleuresse ; while 
he, in primrose sendal with topaz agraffes at throat 
and wrists, a faint sunburn already on his once pale 
face, was also a very goodly transformation from the 
depressed prisoner. 

He set to help her by pulling handfuls of heliotrope 
and smilax from the loggia-pillars ; and then Louis, 
also in princely array of azure sendal and gold Venetian 
belt, came out of the house. 

“ Marguerite cara, have you any cool lemon drink 
to hand ? ” he said, smiling cheerfully. “ I have been 
to see the President of the Republic, and his speeches 
and the day’s heat are alike — dry. The old man 
had very grave news. He says runners have come in, 
270 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 271 


telling that a Hungarian army — that which was 
expected to come for the crowning of the Prince — 
has indeed arrived, but that it has camped outside 
the city and is pillaging right and left ! No more, 

and neither of us know what has happed Ha, 

Pietro. Who is’t ? ” 

A manservant came out with puzzled air. 

“ Altezza, a woman from Naples, who will give no 
name, would see you instantly.” 

“ Bring her hither ! ” Fran£ois threw a too full 
rose at Marguerite, and, as its pink petals rained over 
her, laughed. 

“ Confound all kingdoms,” he said ruefully. “ Let 
us hope ’tis no ill news.” 

“ We are so happy together here,” said Marguerite. 
“ Duenna-less, mistress of our villa, and with my easy 
Louis for house-mate, ’tis almost as good as being 
free Rita de Chartres ” 

Then to smiling comedy entered grim tragedy. 
Marek, weary, dusty in her dark travelling mantilla, 
tottered into the loggia, and would have fallen, 
but Louis caught and placed her in a chair. 

When Marguerite had held a Venetian tazza of cold 
wine to her lips, she rallied and spoke., 

“ By your calm faces, you have heard naught ! 
Ah — I scarce know how to begin. Andrea is dead ! 
Dead since the night ere last, murdered by the 
Queen’s barons and Charles of Durazzo ! ” 

“ Quick 1 ” cried Louis. “ What of Jehanne ? Is 
she safe ? ” 

“ Jehanne has gone — gone ! Amaury has carried 
her off. I was there. I saw Andrea dead. The 
world reels round me, till I find words hardly. See, 
I had best tell you from the beginning, for clearness.” 


272 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Her words set the world rocking for all of them, and 
for a blank moment they stared at each other, ere she 
collected herself, and told them all as we have seen it. 

“ I saw Amaury give Jehanne to Des Baux,” she 
said. “ I heard his plan to go to Garde Joyeuse. 
Then, presently, I climbed up the ivy of the wall, 
close by the dead Prince, and heard Amaury’s speech 
within also. He told Durazzo to go to Casaluce, and 
take Mabrice veiled as his Duchess. Then I crept 
off to the Convento gate, and saw Amaury bring out 
the real Marie in Jehanne’s mantle on another horse, 
for Eblis would not let her mount — and they all set 
off helter-skelter to Naples. I followed, and, half- 
way there, they were met by the Queen’s Guard. 
A man must have gone to fetch it, on the first alarm 
at Aversa. The Hungarian army had arrived for 
the coronation about midnight, but had camped 
peaceably outside Porta Capuana, for no news of the 
murder had reached them. Amaury’s train from 
Aversa rode quietly into Castel Nuovo. The Empress 
had moved in there from Palazzo di Taranto at first 
news of the Hungarian coming, on pretext of ordering 
some workmen for the morrow’s ceremonies. The 
mock Queen got inside, and then somehow the awful 
news of the hanging leaked out ! The town was like 
a seething cauldron, the riot ten thousand times 
worse than that at Andrea’s Proclamation as King. 
Blood ran like the gutters down Larga Correggie. 
I never saw such fighting — nasty hole-and-corner 
trap-work, up and down the Vici. Oh, but Amaury 
was great ! He was a lion among the hyenas ! He, 
Hugues des Baux, and Squillace with their men 
cleared the Larga and Castel of foes in three hours. 
If Jehanne willed, it would take no persuasion for 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 273 


the populace to cry him King of Naples, for all the 
city sides with her, justifies her. 

“ The Abbot Capece has still got Andrea’s corpse — 
he will neither render it up for burial nor bury it 
there — and he cries Murder louder than any foe of 
them all ! Orsini is like a madman, armoured and 
horsed in the Hungarian camp. Conrad Wolf tried 
to sack Palazzo di Taranto, and the Greek Guard 
drove him back. The Empress and supposed Queen 
are safe in the Castel, but war rages, and the Hungar- 
ians cry that the assassins be given up to them. The 

city’s horrors are too awful for my tongue ” 

She broke off abruptly. Louis held the cup to her 
again, and asked : “ How passed you hither, if the 
enemy are abroad ? ” 

“ At Porta Capuana the guard was a good-natured 
German captain men called Barbarossa, whom I told 
that I was a wandering fortune-teller, and he, knowing 
some of my tribe in Hungary, let me pass. Partly 
also because just then the Seigneur Hugues des Baux 
came roaring to ask if his daughter Cecile ‘Passe 
Rose ’ had crossed the Porta. From what Amaury 
once said, I think she had eloped with a young 
ProvenQal who loved her. Oh, all Naples is over- 
turned ! The once Gay City — the horrors in the 
Hungarian camps — I came along as on wings. Truly, 
my love and my hate have lent me them ! ” 

“ Where is this Garde Joyeuse ? ” asked Louis, short 
as a spear-thrust. “ I go there, and you go with me ! ” 
Marek laughed as shortly. “ For this I came now. 
I will follow Amaury and take the Queen from him, 
if it be to hell. He came last night to fetch some 
papers I guarded for him, and stayed till dawn. 
While he slept I slipped off his signet, and in his haste 

T 


274 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


he missed it not. We must arrive at Garde Joyeuse 
before him, and enter there, and then by craft you can 
take Jehanne away. Amaury sails for Provence 
to-morrow morn ; if you have a ship here, we must 
take it now and race him ! ” 

She sprang to her feet, her vitality quick again, 
love and jealousy fanning it to blaze sky-high. 

“We must have men with us — how can we get them 
— unless we take some of the President’s Guard,” 
cried Louis ; but Marek shook a firm head. 

“ The Garde can only be entered by cunning, not 
force without an army to leaguer it for long — too long 
for us ! ” she said. “ Take twenty men and no more, 
but sent to Taranto for troops to follow there if you 
return not in three weeks or so. Leave all to me — I 
know my way ! ” 

Louis turned upon his sister. 

“ Rita, you must go to the President’s wife till I 
return,” he said. “ I must go rescue Jehanne. 
There is no other place for you, sith our mother is 
besieged in Naples.” 

But Francis spoke up. “ Prince Louis, this is a 
timely moment to make a suggestion,” he said, shy- 
ness fighting oddly with suppressed gladness in the 
tone. “ Your sister and I — er — oh ! ” He grew 
scarlet and stopped. 

Louis smiled, as Marguerite as usual cut the 
strained knot. She put her arm through Francois’ 
as children do before a lecture. 

“ Bless us, Louis,” she said, an ecstasy to have 
disarmed an ogre on her eager face. “You must have 
seen how things are with us, unless you were blind.” 

“ Benedicite, ma mie ! As ever, you choose an 
untimely moment for all things ! Fran§ois is a duke 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 275 


— wherefor I am thankful, for had he been a jongleur 
’twould have gone alike. Like all your other whims, 
I must perforce say yea ! I have seen too much of 
our state-unions to refuse your love-match. Eh, 
carissima ! But even with my blessing, the wedding 

may dally, for our mother ” 

“ Ah, cheri ! ” cut in the wilful Princess, with a smile 
of sublimest mischief. “ Clever brother Louis ! We 
thought of that, also, so that last night we bribed 
Father Paul, to make sure — that to-day I should be 
the Duchess of Andria ! Kiss me, Louis ! ” 

And Louis clasped her, shaking with laughter. 

* *- * * * * 
Jehanne never had any clear memories of what 
happened in the two days after leaving Ventimiglia ; 
her soul was too anxious to heed very much what was 
done to her weary body. She had, however, dim 
pictures of endless mountain-passes with roads of 
slippery white stones, over which her mule slid and 
climbed alternately ; of its jolting pace past eyrie- 
like villages in the distance, through woods of bushy- 
topped firs, then of torrents white and rushing, with 
faint blue tinges in their chalky depths — torrents to 
be crossed by perilous fords. 

As the little band got higher, there were patches 
of last year’s snows about in corners. She thought 
the mountains themselves in league against her. Oh, 
impossible plight ! Here was a queen prisoner in her 
own land, and only herself and her captor knew it ! 
Every mile dimmed her hopes of escape, yet she sat 
staring ahead into the purple passes, or at the fleecy 
blue and white Alpine sky, calm and indifferent as 
the dead to all outward seeming. 

Miserable Bertrand watched her for hours as 


276 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


they rode, studying her perfections as never before, 
maddeningly trying to guess the tangle’s end. 

He would have given Amaury body and soul to 
the devil long before they ended the journey, and 
could only hope that he and Jehanne might yet agree, 
and perchance she would then pardon him. He got 
small comfort from this reflection, however ; and 
meanwhile Jehanne heeded his earnest eyes no more 
than those of the soaring Alpine hawks, and only 
spoke to ask for a cloak, or draught of cold water 
when the sun beat down. 

On the second evening, when the border of Savoy 
was passed, and the scenes wilder than ever, Bertrand 
reined up beside a roaring torrent in a deep valley, 
ending in what seemed a solid wall of rock, and 
pointed upwards. 

“ La Garde Joyeuse,” he said briefly. 

They skirted the torrent, and soon Jehanne saw 
the wall was a huge Alp, its peak mist-wrapped ; but 
half-way up, on a great shoulder of rocks to the east, 
were towers of a strong fort, and a great gateway set 
a dozen yards back from the precipice, but with no 
visible road thereto. 

The Alp was narrow but very tall, and in the valley 
some distance from its foot a little village trembled 
from whose square chapel-tower came a fitful alarm- 
note. The fort was built into the main mountain at 
the back, and on three sides were sheer precipices 
from which the side-walls rose straightly, but the 
road wound to the cliff-foot. There Jehanne saw 
that there was a deep groove in the rock, and when 
Bertrand had winded his horn, and another trumpet 
above had answered it, a sort of wooden cage was let 
down by four thick ropes. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 277 


To this grim black hold Amaury’s grandsire, the 
fierce old Count Humbert, had given mockingly the 
Arthurian legendary name of “ La Garde Joyeuse.” 
Yet it was very valuable to the House of Savoy, 
situated as it was on the southern border of their 
fief-nominal, the Comte de Maurienne, and easily 
reachable from the Italian side, while protected from 
Provengal invasions by the Comte. Cold and grim 
as it looked, it held rooms which could vie with the 
Palais d’Aix in luxury and splendour. The Counts, 
father and son, had both had a liking for fair guests, 
so that on all points Amaury had chosen Jehanne’s 
hiding-place exceedingly well. 

A wild-haired, slink-eyed lad, in the colours of 
Savoy stepped from the wooden cage, and with a 
word to him Bertrand carefully lifted Jehanne from 
her mule, and begged her to enter. Then the great 
windlass above wound them up the rock-face till 
they stood upon the little plateau and entered the 
gate of Garde Joyeuse itself. 

Within it was also sinister and strong. Strange 
men and women slipped about its corridors and halls 
— folk with shifty eyes and hands which knew the 
feel of a poignard better than that of a halberd : 
Count Amaury knew what he did, when any of his 
more desperate ruffians got out of hand. He did not 
hang them ; he pardoned them and garrisoned Garde 
Joyeuse with them ! Gratitude and fear of re-con- 
demnation together brew fine loyalty. Nowhere did 
he breathe easier than among them. 

A square tower at the south-western corner of the 
fort contained two rooms one above the other, con- 
nected by a spiral stair, both of quaint sexagon shape 
and right royally tapestried with crimson damask 


278 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


blazoned with the arms of Savoy. The door of the 
lower room had an inner door of cast-iron deeply 
sunk into felted lintels, and an outer one of oak also 
sound-deadened and iron-hooped, and from it a 
narrow corridor led to the rest of the fort. 

A blazing fire of pine cones and logs, and many 
costly skins upon the floor warmed each chamber, 
and every other feminine requisite such as a broidery 
frame, a lute, a pile of book-parchment, and song 
manuscripts showed every care for a noble guest had 
been taken ; but Jehanne shuddered as she gazed 
from the window into the yawning precipice below. 

“We shall have snow — that is the chapel-bell to 
call the serfs from the heights,” quoth Bertrand, with 
something of an apologetic landlord’s air, as she 
examined the room. 

She looked at him once. “ Would an avalanche 
might sweep this vulture’s nest clear away ! ” she 
said ; and he went out wordless. 

A dark nimble mountain maid, Lucienne, replaced 
Finette (left behind) at Ventimiglia, but beyond her, 
Jehanne had no guard but the locked doors ; for 
nothing could leave the fortress without wings, save 
by the cage, which naturally had sentries at the 
windlass and machinery-house outside the great gate. 

In these rooms, then, Jehanne passed five terrible 
lonely days. 

Her mind became a whirl of anxious thoughts, self- 
searchings, remorse, wonderings, hopes, fears, resolves 
— in short, such chaos as would have driven a weaker 
woman quite mad, but which only tortured her to 
the verge of frenzy. The worst came on the fourth 
day, and then she grew calmer again and resolved 
herself into dumb waiting, which yet was far from a 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 279 


state of resignation to her fate. Then she screwed 
herself up to defy the inevitable, if there came no 
help and Amaury appeared. 

If I slay him ’twill rid the earth of one villain, 
hap what may to me,” she told herself. 44 Then his 
men would not kill me, but hold me to ransom. If 
so I shall be saved ; if not — I die at least true to my 
Louis ! ” 

Then the full knowledge of what she willed to do 
rushed on her, and she shook with horror at herself. 
She looked at her hand as if it were stained. “ If — if 
heaven holds it red with one blood, will it count if I 
dip it again ? ” she muttered wildly to herself. 

These remorseful hours were the worst of all to 
bear, but she tried to fight them with cooler worldly 
reasonings. Andrea’s death had been inevitable in any 
case, but — still her wretched conscience would pro- 
test that she might have tried harder to prevent it. 

Then again rose a homely Sicilian proverb of 
Filippa’s : 44 Weeping will not mend broken eggshells, 
so eat the eggs while you may.” This was some 
comfort to her unquiet mind, and soothed her awhile. 

And in long musings the afternoon of the fifth day 
came. 

Then came to her thoughts a plan of trying to 
persuade Bertrand to free her once more. There 
must have been much fighting in Naples. If Amaury 
were slain, and word reached Bertrand, he would be 
disposed to heed her, and set her free. She had 
almost abandoned the hope of rescue — she wondered 
if any one else but Amaury knew whither Bertrand 
had taken her — a thousand wonderments — and mean- 
while the inaction, the captivity were maddening her. 
In this space she strolled idly to the window and flung 


280 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


it open, to let more sunlight enter, and leaned out 
looking down the rock into the valley bottom. Then 
she gave a great start as she caught her breath 
chokingly, yet 

Two figures were dismounting from mules by the 
little shed below — a woman in a mantle, and a tall 
man whose back-fallen chapereau showed a bright 
head of hair — a man who suddenly looked upwards 

Jehanne gasped again, and sat down from sheer 
inability to stand, with the surprise. Louis had come 
to Garde Joyeuse before Amaury 1 

How he had come, and who the woman was, she 
had no idea : if he had an armed force following him, 
to besiege the Garde — how he proposed to get in and 
how deal with Bertrand, she asked herself in one 
hurried question. Then her course was revealed to 
her in a flash of inspiration. 

She would get Bertrand to come and speak with 
her quickly, and detain him awhile, to see if she could 
beguile him to letting her out of these rooms into the 
rest of the Garde. Then if Louis were here on some 
barefaced pretext, such as his trovereship, she would 
be able to see him. She whistled Lucienne down from 
the upper room instantly, and dispatched her to the 
Sieur des Baux, with the message that the Countess 
wished to speak with him. 

The wild joy at the mere sight of Louis was such 
that she could hardly contain herself. His coming 
drove out her fears, nerved her hand, banished every 
other regret, remorse, scruple. 

She looked forth again, but could not spy them as 
they had walked to the cage’s place, only she heard 
a horn echo up. 

Shaking with excitement, she flung herself on a 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 281 


couch, and watched the roof of the room with its 
painted stars in a blue sky, waiting for Bertrand to 
come in, praying he would not go to the gate. 

Meanwhile Marek and Louis had left their mules 
in the shed, and Marek called down the cage with a 
certain blast upon the horn from his saddle-gear. 

They had had fair winds, from Amalfi to Venti- 
miglia, but they found their ship was not so fast as 
they hoped. Now they scourged forward, over the 
slippery mountain roads, for Marek was unquiet, 
knowing Amaury’s light sailing galley to be the fastest 
thing afloat in the Mediterranean, and she feared being 
overtaken, even with so much start of him as they had. 
They had left their twenty men at the hamlet of St. 
Gilles, a couple of miles off the route from the coast 
and about four from the Garde, to fit with the plan 
Marek had made. She and Louis had ridden like the 
post — two desperate silent folk, each with love at 
stake, each determined to win or die. 

The cage came down, and the page greeted Marek 
with : “ Is it you, madame ? I thought you were the 
Count. Long Maurice ran in, to say he comes, an 
hour ago ! ” 

But Marek did not even start. “ Aye, Gaston, he 
sent us on ahead. Do not tell him we have arrived, 
as I will play a jest upon him. Into the cage, Messire 
Vivien ! ” 

As they went up, she and Louis exchanged desperate 
looks. Amaury’s coming so close spelled extreme 
danger. But Marek did not waver. She stepped 
steadily out on the plateau, in the setting sunlight, 
and smiled at the tall peaks with their white snow, 
now turned crimson by the light. Amaury’s seneschal, 
a sturdy pippin-faced old war-dog, called behind his 


282 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


back Blaise Le Louchard, and to his front the Baron 
de Vence, met them. Marek shook her velvet fur- 
bound hood backwards easily, as one who returns 
home, and gave him a dignified hand. 

“ Good-day, Baron ! The Count is just behind us, 
attending to some business which cropped up by the 
way, but he feared a snowstorm, so sent me and 
Messire Vivien de Chartres, his new jongleur, on ahead. 
Pray call me Lucienne if she be still here, and have 
fires put in my rooms.” 

The Baron stared, but knelt and saluted her hand 
respectfully. 

“ Certes, madame ; but as for the rooms — we have 
another lady here now — a mysterious dame indeed ; 
knew you not of her ? ” 

He said it with annoyance, for he and Marek had 
agreed very well on her previous visit, and he half 
feared the strange lady of whom the Sieur des Baux 
had charge was a possible Countess of Savoy ; and he 
misliked des Baux’s arrogant airs mightily. 

But Marek winked scornfully. “ Oh — she ! Aye, 
she is only the Sieur des Baux’s affair ! An unwilling 
heiress, look you, Baron. See here now ! ” She 
waved her hand bearing Amaury’s gold-crowned- 
arms-engraven signet, like a wedding-ring, and smiled 
gaily. 

“ She never leaves those rooms — but there are the 
Count’s, of course. Eh, curse me for a fool ! Take 
my felicitations, dear lady ! ” 

Kneeling, he kissed her symbol of power, and 
grinned with pleasure. If the Tzigana were indeed 
the Red Count’s wife, better she than some starched 
doll of a princess — far easier chatelaine to please. 

“ I am fain to play a little jest on my husband, to 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 283 


serve him out for one he played on me in Naples,’ * 
she said, smiling at de Vence. “ He half scared me 
to death by hiding in a cupboard and leaping out on 
me ! Do not tell him we have arrived, and I will 
serve him even so when it grows dark. He will be 
so anxious also, that I am not here — or he may feign 
indifference if he suspects. Messire de Chartres, come 
with me, and hide in his rooms ! Then suddenly begin 
to sing ! ” She laughed like a child at a good jest, 
and the Baron laid finger to lips, and grinned genially 
at her as she ran lightly up the steps of the inner 
hall, followed by Louis. 

“You are a very witch ! ” whispered Louis to her 
as they entered Amaury’s chamber. “ My wit lags 
long after yours. We have gained a moment for 
council, but what now ? Amaury comes ? ” 

“ Aye, and you must be far hence with Jehanne ere 
he doth. I marvel where Des Baux is, and if she is 
strongly guarded. Get you into this great armoire, 
and I will call Lucienne and find out exactly.” 

To Marek’s whistle Lucienne brought wine and 
cakes, and said she hoped Madame had had a fair 
voyage. 

Madame replied that she had, and that the Count 
would come presently, but that he must not know she 
had arrived as she was going to give him a fright by 
hiding in the arras and jumping out suddenly. 

Then casually she added she supposed the Sieur 
des Baux was here also ? 

“ Si, si, madame,” smiled Lucienne. “ I heard him 
singing to the strange lady now. Ah, but she is 
lovely ! Yet so triste — never smiles ; and the Sieur 
such a gallant man too, if he is grim ” 

Marek smiled back. “ Still, she may change her 


284 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


mind with time. Run away now, and say naught to 
Monseigneur.” 

On her going Louis peered from the armoire. 

“ If Bertrand is with Jehanne, we had best rush 
into the room, then do you bolt the door while I 
challenge him to fight. I have every cause, and as 
for the end — I have yet to meet my match at sword- 
play. Then — after — we have only to walk tranquilly 
to the cage, and get down. The walls are thick, the 
swords make no noise to matter. Yet, you have not 
told me what you will do when we are gone. Amaury 
might slay you in his rage. The seneschal having 
seen me enter, you must tell some story — what ? ” 

44 I shall only say you joined me at Ventimiglia 
with the story that you had ridden at Amaury’s 
command to join me, from Pisa. To Amaury I shall 
boldly say that I could not live without him, and that 
I tracked him hither from a sailor’s babble on Naples’ 
quay. We have never had wry words yet, for I acted 
my part too well even while knowing him false. Oh, 
leave me to cozen him, while you fly with the Queen. 
I might feign to swoon and say you stunned me and 
tore the signet from me — time enow ! Let us go.” 

But she blenched, and turned aside to hide it while 
he was rolling his cloak round his arm and loosening 
his sword. 

Her chivalrous accomplice would never leave her to 
face the fate she dreaded if Amaury turned against 
her, and his first wrath did not pass off. 

44 The White Mercy ! ” she said to her shuddering 
soul. 44 Ugh ! ’Tis an evil end ! ” For the Red 
Count was here, as in all else, an artist. He never 
beheaded an evil-doer and the hangman’s rope rotted 
from disuse at Garde Joyeuse. But the victims were 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 285 

bound hand and foot, stripped to the shirt first, then 
carried out and laid where a wriggle would send them 
over the edge of the snowy precipices around the 
Joyous Hold. They stayed thus three days, and then, 
if what remained of a human body had a breath left 
in it, it was cut free to find its way down the all but 
impossible goat-tracks round the great mountain’s 
flanks. But in all the memories of the quaking 
peasants of the near villages, there were but two 
cases of wandering wild-eyed men, who had been of 
great hardihood and strength, who found a gibbering 
way to shelter — and then only to die in frenzy. 

Such was the mercy of Amaury le Rouge, courtier 
of Naples, condottiero of Savoy ! 

But Marek was unflinching in her resolve, to win 
back her lover, and rid herself of Jehanne, or to take 
with the steady courage of despair at the loss of the 
love which was to her more than life, any doom he 
might deal out to her. Her passion devoured all 
fear, and dug her cunning deep. Armed by these 
fierce desires, she had brought her rival’s lover to her 
aid, for to Jehanne herself she bore no hate, knowing 
how matters stood with her and Louis. Together 
with him now, she went along the narrow passage 
leading to Jehanne’s tower, but even as they tried 
the outer wooden door softly, a sound came along 
which sent his hand to hilt, and drove Marek deadly 
pale. Cheerfully it came — a man’s voice, lilting a 
little song, to the tune of spurred heel on the stone 
floor ! 

A little chamber, no bigger than an alcove, made 
for storing arrows and bolts for the tower’s defence 
in siege, opened a providential door at the turn of the 
passage, lighted dimly by an arrow-slit only. Marek 


286 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


threw her arms about Louis, and lifted him into its 
gloom by sheer force, just as Count Amaury came 
along and fitted a key into the inner iron door. But 
even as that door swung open, Louis, despite her 
struggles, leaned from the shelter’s angle, and saw 
clearly right over the Red Count’s shoulder what 
passed in the inner chamber. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


“ Entre la bouche et le verre 
Souvent le vin tombe h. terre.” 

Nostradamus. 

The delicate Italian lock of Jehanne’s prison-room 
clicked faintly, and Bertrand des Baux entered, rather 
flushed and ill at ease ; but she instantly held out her 
hand for him to kiss, and backed the favour by : 

“ I am half crazed with loneliness ! We have 
quarrelled long enough, so I sent for you to sing to 
me while poor Lucienne goes out for fresh air on the 
walls. She may have it, if I may not ! ” rather 
mockingly, as he relocked the door. 

She strolled to the window humming a refrain, the 
pliant folds of her long robe trailing and swaying with 
every supple movement as she went. Bertrand eyed 
her keenly down from golden circlet over bronzen 
plaits to scarlet slippers below the gown hem. She 
sat on the couch, and pushed him a tabouret with her 
foot, then reached her lute from the table near. 

Her smooth manner relieved him mightily, and as 
he deemed rescue so very impossible, he had no fears 
of its veiling more. 

“ Sing me that little canzone of Foulquet’s, the one 
beginning : 

“ Ma douce amio, le temps se passe,” 

she demanded ; and he complied. 

287 


288 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


He had a good voice, and though he rarely used the 
lighter side of Trouverey, in his Sicilian compaign he 
had been a famous troller of camp ballades. Jehanne’s 
eyes were glittering uneasily, but her face was in 
shadow ; as the passionate hopeful words ended her 
lips parted with pleasure. 

“ Thank Heaven for song ! ’Tis the one pure thing 
we have left from Paradise ! Such canzones make me 
forget all my woes. This has tuned me to sing you 
somewhat also. It inay startle you ” 

She sang, but at the first verse his fists were 
clenched, his cheeks hot, for it was the plaintive 
Prison Song of Richard of Anjou in his Austrian 
dungeon, the piteous entreaty of each line intensified 
tenfold. 

“ Qu’ils sachent bien mes hommes, mes barons, 

Que pour argent n’ouvrissent leurs prisons 
Point ne les veux taxer de trahison — 

Mais suis deux hivers pris ! ” 

He sprang up, smarting under the accusation in the 
tone, but her raised hand checked him, and she sang 
on, every note liquid with tears : 

(< Dans un captif plus d’ami, plus d’ argent ! 

Plus que ses jours ils epargnent 1’ argent ! 

Las ! que je me sens douloir ce torment ! ” 

Her head dropped, and as she raised it, tears filled 
her imploring eyes. 

“ Qui sauvera le renom de ma gent ? ” 

Then sudden hope crept back, tender and sweet : 

“ Pourtant mon cceur je sens se rassurer — 

Si je Pen crois, mes fers vont se briser ! ” 

Plainest meaning was in her glance. A sterner man 
than he might have responded, yet he sat down 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 289 


breathing heavily, without speaking ; and she sang 
the last sad 

“ Car suis deux hivers pris ! ** 

“ I might as well try to move an Alp ! 99 she thought, 
but leaned forward and touched his shoulder. 

“ Richard said truly of his barons — fair faced in 
smooth times, but in rough — traitors ! So are 
mine ! ” 

Bertrand growled rather than said : 

“ Les Saintes Maries ! Were it any but you, 
Majesty ! 99 

She smiled her most wonderful smile. 

“ Then I thought rightly ! It is only your oath to 
Amaury which makes you traitor to me ! I did but 
test you now, for I pride me I can read my men truly, 
and thus I read you — Answer me!” 

He hung his head slightly, and to see his face she 
leaned forward, her hand gripping his shoulder till 
he felt her pulses throb through his cotte hardie, and 
a loose curl of her scented hair brushed his very cheek. 
He coughed sharply, and strode to the window and 
back, as if unable to keep still. Jehanne saw his 
wavering. 

“Ah, Bertrand, be not the first Des Baux, who was 
traitor to Anjou ! Trust your Queen — I ever deemed 
you my friend — show me that I was right ! Free me 
— I will double aught Amaury may have promised 
you ! ” 

She was growing desperate to be out at least into 
the Garde, and she braced herself into a harder 
effort. 

“ I always trusted you, Bertrand — trust me now ! 
Free me ! Ah, I implore ! ” 
u 


290 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


She rose, held out her hands to him, her tears 
streaming fast. 

The Grand Justicer found a Queen’s tears worse to 
endure than her rage, and in his desperate embarrass- 
ment found no better course than to put one arm 
round her in the awkwardest, half-caress possible. 
He was so masculinely helpless with a weeping 
woman that she could have laughed had she not been 
strung up to such anxious tension, and then as he 
drew her closer smiled up at him suddenly, with her 
most alluring, persuasive, enchanting smile of all. 
Its effect upon the hitherto grim cold soldier was both 
magical and disastrous, and she gasped at the quick 
change in his look as sharply he bent over her — with 
surprise, longing, and the very dawn of hot feeling 
mingled therein. 

He dared not kiss her, so strong was his old mail of 
caution, and awe of her, even while he held her so, 
and she felt the arm which held her fairly tremble, as 
she smiled again, and murmured very low : 

“ Ah, trust me ! — and free me, Bertrand ! ” 

His arm tightened about her suddenly, and in its 
close clasp her hand fell down by his side, and quite 
by accident touched his poignard hilt, even as his 
hesitating lips neared her forehead, timidly, yet as if 
compulsorily. But even the magic of her upraised 
mouth so near his own could not drug the soldier’s 
instinct so long dominant in him, and instantly 
Des Baux had recovered from his momentary lapse 
towards gallantry. 

His rage rose swiftly as the storm-wind whirls up on 
his native Plain of Arles, and in a second he had her 
by the shoulders, and held her away from him, as a 
man holds a cat which has scratched. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 291 


The angry surprise which flamed in her face he 
misread like the touch on the hilt, as springing from a 
guilty cause. 

“ So you would have glamoured me for treachery, 
would you ? Soul of St. Magdalen ! You can fool a 
man once too oft — I am no foolish Amaury taken in 
by your cursed love-sorceries ! I am a match for any 
cozening jade alive ! Hear truth for once, Queen 
Jezebel ! Witch ! Hussy ! ” 

Too stricken by astonishment to try to check his 
furious rush of words, she stared dumbly at him, and 
just then the key turned silently in the door with- 
out, and as she faced it she saw what of all things 
was least expected. There, with his red surcoat 
splashed, and his mail shirt rusted by the sea, and 
a frown like a thundercloud on his brow, stood 
Amaury ! 

Something irresistible seemed to draw her gaze past 
him, and lo, in the passage beyond him she saw 
Louis — Louis, a glow of triumphant love in his 
eyes. 

Any ordinary man under circumstances so amazing, 
would have leapt forward, or cried out, but Louis of 
Taranto grasping as was usual with him the situation 
with almost supernatural quickness, did the one 
prudent thing — a thing so simple that only a 
strategical genius like he would have been calm 
enough to do. He made her a vehement sign of 
silence, and slipped into hiding behind the door’s 
heavy silk curtain. 

Amaury, conscious only of the pair before him, 
listened a second as Bertrand berated Jehanne with 
the fluency acquired in many camps, and then 
unheard upon the wolfskin rugs, he crossed the 


292 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


room, and dropped a grimly ironical hand upon his 
shoulder. 

In the brief moment of open-mouthed surprise 
which followed, Jehanne glanced at the curtain over 
Amaury’s head, and there saw Louis look forth and 
make her with his hands the rapid pantomimic signs 
of two men fighting and some one running away — 
Half understanding, she made a plan. 

As Bertrand released her arm, she turned, and with 
a hoarse little cry, threw herself right upon Amaury’s 
heart. 

“ Amaury ! Save me ! — He — Oh, Madonna mia ! 
His lips had touched mine ! ” 

Des Baux, too overwhelmed at this thunderbolt of 
invention, spluttered a wild moment, and stood mute 
as a carp. 

Amaury held her an instant, oblivious of all else. 

“ O Jehanne, mon coeur ” he said, a world of 

tender joy in his voice, “ At last I come ! ” 

Then like an arrow’s barb, her last meaning bit into 
his brain. 

Deliberately he put off her arms, and drew his sword. 

“ Eh, false steward of mine ! I ask for no explana- 
tions — only guard you, now ! 

Mechanically at the taunt, Bertrand’s blade leapt 
out also, but the action loosened his tongue. 

“ Hold, Amaury ! She lies, for she tempted me to 
free her, and weakly I held her a moment ” 

With a shriek Jehanne drowned his voice. 

“Will you hark to his lies before my word, Amaury ? 
You saw him seize me ” 

Amaury’s mind heated to the whitest glow of anger, 
argued nothing ; he only wished to be rid of Bertrand, 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 293 


to slay him, as the last impediment which kept him 
from Jehanne, and really if his feelings be analysed, 
it was more impatience to be rid of him, than resent- 
ment, he was so sure of her love by the greeting she 
had given him. 

Bertrand’s frantic attempt to clear himself, he 
judged the natural lie of a man in his place ; and he 
doffed his cloak quickly. 

Des Baux, however, threw down his sword with a 
last wild appeal to reason. 

“ God ! Amaury ! We cannot fight so — you have 
your mail on you — Hear me ! She lies ” 

Amaury laughed, rolled up his cloak, and threw it 
at his head. 

“ There is cause, if you need one ! Not another 
word. Here, Jehanne ma mie, pray loose my mail 
on the shoulder, so that I may end this liar’s 
bragging.” 

Jehanne looked at them desperately, feeling like 
some puppet drawn by wires against her will. If she 
stopped the fight, Louis would be discovered, if she 
let it go on they might kill each other — but even while 
she halted she looked up, and saw Louis smiling quiet 
approval at her, and holding a beckoning finger to- 
wards the door. The others, deadly intent on their 
preparations noticed nothing, nor turned that way, as 
he kept peeping out. She looked at Louis and made 
her choice. He was the only thing of any con- 
sequence in the whole world ! Let fools like Amaury 
and Bertrand fight ! The strong frenzy of love 
rushed upon her like the Moslem’s battle-fury and 
made her invulnerable to all other thoughts or 
falterings. 


294 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


She undid Amaury’s mail, and but for its clink on 
the floor, there was dead silence, for miserable 
Bertrand subsided into hopeless quietude, and truly, 
any man would have done alike, when fronted with the 
fierce devil which was loose in Amaury’s eyes just 
then. 

The swords snapped together in that little rasping 
tune of steel which has been so many men’s death- 
prelude in the ages of blade play, and still Jehanne 
watched them dart with that oddly helpless fascina- 
tion binding her. Then she looked at the curtain, 
and saw Louis quick and silent as a ghost slip out, and 
into the passage mouth, beckoning imperiously to her. 

Bertrand had desperation in his point, and Amaury 
had his impatient haste, and just as his blade bit 
slightly into Des Baux’s left shoulder, Jehanne shifted 
her stand and got towards the door, unheeded of 
either as they stamped to and fro, in that absorption 
of darting, flickering steel. She drew back, and back 
— and gaining the threshold, stepped out — and was 
caught in Louis’s arms ! 

Then, with a quickness that seemed sleight of hand, 
Marek slipped forward, pulled the door to, and shot 
its heavy bolts upon the duel within. Then she flitted 
away, leaving them gazing at each other with joy too 
deep for mere words, and which made them moment- 
arily utterly reckless of the danger which lay all about 
them. 

Louis broke that magical silence, as presently 
Jehanne disengaged herself from his arms, and tried 
to frame a sentence. 

“ Ruby life-Star of mine, I have kept my word, and 
am returned — and thou art free 1 ” 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 295 


“ Louis, I tried to save Andrea at the last ! I was 
too late — I felt guilty, yet heaven knows I am not ! ” 
she said very rapidly, and he answered only by a long 
kiss upon her lips. 

Marek was back again, a fur mantle and Jehanne’s 
shoes in her hand. 

“ You are saved, comrade ! ” she said to Louis. 
“ Fear naught, for here is Amaury’s signet, which you 
have only to show to the varlet of the lift, and so quit 
the Garde unquestioned. You have only to mount 
the mules in the lower stable there, and so ride for 
Ventimiglia — thence plain sailing to Nice where the 
Chateau is safety for you both ” 

44 What of you ? Amaury will break out of there ! ” 
said Louis hastily. 

44 Leave him to me ! Only haste away now — 
Queen Jehanne, my unconscious rival, God speed you, 
I pray with whole soul, for your coming and going 
have given me my life’s desire ! Prince Louis will 
tell you all my story as you ride — but now haste 
away ! ” 

She was quivering with high excitement, her face 
burned, while the hands with which she clasped 
Louis’s in farewell were cold as snow. 

Jehanne, having no time for questions, had per- 
force to content herself by saying a few words of 
thanks, which she knew for inadequate, but which 
Marek smilingly cut short, and waved her away to- 
wards the Courtyard. 

A few busy pantlers and men-at-arms were all the 
people they met on the way to the gate, and there on 
showing the ring, the guard passed them promptly to 
the lift, which was lowered to the rock-foot, near 


296 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 

which in the stable stood always saddled six mules and 
three jennets. 

A silver piece and the sight of the ring made the 
groom bring out two of the latter without question, 
and then Louis lifted Jehanne into saddle. 

“ For the first time, my Queen, I may set you on 
your throne ! ” he said smiling, as he vaulted into his 
own saddle and turned his steed’s head southwards up 
the pass. 

The last rays of the sunset flamed up splendidly in 
the west and lighted Queen Jehanne’s radiant face, 
as she rode beside him. 

“ And dearer to me is this humble seat than my 
siege of Naples now ! — because my King has placed 
me thereon — But we shall share that of Naples to- 
gether most joyfully, my Louis, my King — for seeing 
that you give me back my throne, my crown is fair 
exchange is it not ? ” she said softly. 

“ Give me but yourself, my Queen Jehanne 1 ” 
answered Louis, as they galloped towards their king- 
dom and safety. 

* * # & * 

Marek waited only till she saw the two mounted 
figures vanish in the gathering dusk up the pass far 
below, and then turning from her battlement, she 
ran down the passage to the door of Jehanne’s 
prison. 

Faint thuds sounded from within — cries muffled. 

Then suddenly her overwrought brain gave way. 
She became possessed with the fear some one would 
hear, come and open the door, let out Amaury — and 
that Jehanne would be pursued — brought back. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 297 


This thought surging in her brain, set her running 
back to the plateau by the lift, her hair and veil 
streaming fantastically. Drawing the long, keen 
knife from her belt, she slashed through the tough 
hemp of the lift-ropes over their great pulleys like 
cotton, and as they coiled down the rock’s face to the 
valley, she shrieked with mad laughter. 

It would take some hours to rig a fresh lift to lower 
sufficient force for pursuit, and meanwhile only 
winged things could leave Garde Joyeuse. But as the 
last rope gave, it jerked the engines in the little 
machine house, and the man in charge rushed out, 
and saw 

His alarmed shout roused the Baron de Vence from 
his walk on the wall. 

“ What have you done, Countess ? ” he cried 
amazedly. “ Where is Monseigneur ? Fetch him 
some one ! The Countess is not well ! ” 

Marek laughed strangely, and then as she thought 
unseen, pulled a small bright thing from her bosom 
and threw it over the precipice, but De Vence marked 
it, and started at her air of frenzy. 

“ Get rams and levers, men, and cast about ! 
Madame is — unwell. She has perchance locked up the 
Count. Pray come away from the ramparts, madame. 
You may turn giddy ” 

Her frenzy was passing, and quiet as a lamb she 
went up into Amaury’s room, and stayed there during 
the two hours which it took them to break through 
the double-door behind which Amaury waited in 
impatient fury. 

The lintels were so deep and sound-deadened, that 
it was not until the second door gave way that any 


298 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


voice could penetrate, to command or explain, while 
Marek to all De Vence’s expostulations only returned 
that odd Judith-like smile. 

At last the door broke, and Amaury and Bertrand 
(nursing a slight cut in one arm, but otherwise 
scatheless) bounded into the little group of men. 

“ Hell and the fiend ! Where is the Countess ? 
What folly is this of hers ? ” cried Amaury. 

“ Which of these precious Countesses do you 
mean ? ” asked De Vence sulkily. “ One Countess — 
she the Sieur des Baux brought hither — has left the 
Garde with your jongleur, showing your signet to the 
lift-varlet. The other, Madame Marek, is above, as 
mad as may be ! She rushed out and cut the lift- 
ropes and threw a key over the rock. I am tangled 
up with women and you ! Solve me the mystery, 
Monseigneur.” 

“ My jongleur ? What means that ? ” asked 
Amaury hastily. 

“ He came hither with Madame Marek,” replied 
De Vence. 

Amaury waited for no more, but twisting him 
out of his way, dashed along the passage to his 
room. 

Marek met him with extended arms, smiling 
happily. 

“ Amaury, my life ! She is gone, beloved — and 
thou art wholly mine now ! ” 

“ Jehanne is gone ? How ? What in hell mean 

you ? Explain, or ” He seized her by the 

throat, like some dog one will choke. 

The terrible shock put back some of her scattered 
senses, and she stammered, “You loved Queen 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 299 


Jehanne! — I knew, I heard you say it, sleeping — in 
Naples, and so I rid myself of her — I did it for thee, 
my husband. She never loved you — she is with her 
lover now. Let her go ! ” 

“ Her lover ? 95 Furiously he drew his dagger and 
held it to her throat as if he could hold his huge 
fury no more ; but she went on, never heeding the 
peril. 

“ Her lover, Prince Louis of Taranto. He came 
hither with me, and enticed her to leave the room 
while you fought. Ah, beloved, why look so at me — 
me thy wife ! ” 

He stood there wrath incarnate, his whole world 
of ambition and passion crashing about his ears. 
The greatness of its ruin no words can paint. He had 
done murder for possession of Queen Jehanne, had 
held her and the crown in his very grasp, and now the 
feeble hand of his deluded mistress had turned all to 
dust in the very hour of his triumph ! 

Was it too late even now to recover Jehanne ? 
If he could but overtake her, and this Prince of hers 
escaped his fate, then might the devil grip him after- 
wards ! He spurned Marek with his foot as she knelt 
before him, where she had fallen as his clasp of her 
throat relaxed. 

Then he laughed — a laugh which brought Bertrand 
running, sure that murder was being done. 

“ Ha, Bertrand ! We did well to cease our fight, 
it seems, for we should have slain ourselves for a 
jade ! The puppet Queen has been too clever for 
us after all ! It turns to farce. She had another 
card concealed all the while ! What will the Empress 
say ? Her damnable son Louis has won the game, 


300 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


and left us gaping ! But we will hold them yet — let 
Queen Jehanne try to re-enter her Naples without the 
aid of Savoy ! Let this poor Prince try to sit on its 
burning throne ! He may have glamoured Jehanne 
awhile, but she is mine — mine at soul ! ” 

Then desperately Marek played her last cast, and 
told what was surely the most astounding lie of 
all. 

“ Amaury — Amaury, hear me ! Jehanne has loved 
this Louis for over a year ! For his sake she let thee 
kill Andrea. Even now Empress Catherine is pro- 
claiming her son King in Naples. It was for this she 
told thee to seek Jehanne thyself here, while this is 
being done. She sent me hither with Louis ! Now 
kill me if thou wilt ! ” 

She clasped his knees, closely, desperately, as a 
doomed spirit sticks to its hold on life, yet she feared 
death less than his loss. 

He looked at her, a terrible smile on his lips. 

“ And you did aid Louis of Taranto to bear Jehanne 
hence ? ” he said. 44 Well, Marek, you will find the 
snow kiss colder than I ! ” 

“ Oh, adored, I did it all for thee ! ” she shrieked 
in terror. 4 4 Life to me is nothing without thee. 
Here I will not stay to endure it ! ” She leapt 
up suddenly, and tore Bertrand’s knife from his 
belt ; but before she could drive it into her breast, 
Amaury snatched it away and threw it across the 
room. 

His old love for her sprang up, and cried him 
halt in his fury, and he clasped her passionately, 
and kissed her shaking lips, as he spoke to Bertrand, 
who stood staring at him, utterly at a loss for 
words. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 301 


“ So ! Better faithful gipsy than cold Queen, it 
seems ! For the nonce I keep Marek, but later we 
will have our revenge on Naples and Jehanne. Savoy 
is thorough either in love or hate ! ” 

Des Baux left him caressing Marek’s jetty hair. 


AN AFTERWORD 


Maitre Anselme, wizard and small gentleman of 
Provence, sat on his garden terrace overlooking the 
Baie des Anges and the fair city of the Alpine Eagle 
Flottant, Nizza la Bella. 

The towering Chateau rose above his little white- 
walled villa, and below its garden were aloe-grown 
rocks sheer to the road which wound round the base 
of the Chateau Hill to Port Lympia, and westwards 
towards Cagnes. 

Fair to Maitre Anselme’s gaze stretched the curved 
bow of the sweeping of the Baie, its tip formed by the 
Cap d’ Antibes, green as jade with its trees, beyond 
which the smoky blue of the Esterels bounded the 
sky-line. The clamour from the red-roofed city 
below him, and the splash of the pearly surf softened 
by distance made music in his ears, and the garden’s 
roses and jessamines were sweet as incense in the 
sunlight, but their master had no leisure for their 
beauties that day — only for the slip of parchment 
he held. 

A strange man was Maitre Anselme, and many held 
him a dangerous ; but he had the high protection of 
the Crown, in shape of a grant to study “ All arts 
whatsoever ” from the hand of King Robert, which 
was made doubly safe for him, by the close presence 
of his friend the Sieur Guillaume Feraud de Thora- 
menes, Viguier de Nice, in the Chateau above. 

302 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 303 


Maitre Anselme was dreaming a strange day-dream 
which sent his thoughts backwards nineteen years. 
Nineteen years of mysterious waitings, watchings, 
and communions with the Unseen at his royal master’s 
biddings — they rolled up like a scroll from his memory, 
and he seemed to stand again at Castel Nuovo, in 
Torre Thalassi, in a dusky room hung with garlands, 
and see King Robert eager and anxious at his side. 

The weary Princess Marie de Valois slept in her 
state bed and the nurse softly rocked the ivory cradle 
near by, which held the new-born twin hopes of 
Naples. 

4 4 Tell me, Anselmo,” the King was saying. 44 What 
is the fate of my son’s eldest maidling ? She whom 
we are calling Jehanne whose eyes are as infant 
stars ? ” 

And Anselme heard once more his own strange 
reply — a reply which came to him from Those Who 
Are Without, and which he then did not understand 
himself : 44 Sire, her fate is bound by four Links — 
A.L.I.O ! ” 

44 A.L.I.O ? Explain ! Most mystic saying ! ” 

44 Sire, they cannot be explained now, yet I will try 
to See in the Mirror.” 

Then this memory passed, and there was a gap of 
years. 

Another picture rose, of King Robert coming to 
his little house in Naples announcing joyfully, 44 Our 
riddle is partly read, Anselmo mio. I have affianced 
our Jehanne to young Prince Andrea of Hungary. 
A ! There it is ! ” 

44 A, my King, but what of L.I.O. ? ” 

“ Her children’s names, perchance ? ” 

But Anselme dared not add more to the King’s 


304 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 

solution. He had seen That in his Mirror which 
would not bear explaining. 

But when King Robert was laid in Santa Chiara, 
many in Naples asked why the Astrologer-Royal 
packed up his gear and left for his old home in 
Provence. To such he said that he grew old, and the 
white soil of his beloved Liguria called him away, 
but in truth he dared not stay to see the good King’s 
cherished kingdom ruined by its enemies, nor Jehanne’s 
sorrows with Andrea. 

Yet now he smiled at the parchment signed with 
its firm “ J.” gladly. “ She comes to ask my Sight,” 
he murmured to the sunny air. “ My Sight — and I 
pray it may be better than I fear. O Queen of 
Fourfold Destiny, will you quail at what you may see, 
or are you fearless as I think you ? ” 

There was a sound in the villa loggia, and he 
mounted the steps, his black velvet robe contrasting 
artistically with its gold cincture of Greek broidery 
and his crimson leather shoes. 

Queen Jehanne stood there, on the loggia’s marble 
floor, and held out her hands eagerly to her old friend, 
her eyes a-glow with a wonderful joy. Her radiant 
happiness lit her whole person as a flame shines 
warmly through a once cold alabaster lamp, and one 
glance at the tall gallant figure behind her told 
Anselme all her tidings, before her lips could 
rapturously frame words. 

“ Messire Anselme, this is my husband, Prince 
Louis of Taranto ! — King of Naples, when I have him 
there again ! ” she cried all in a breath, and laughing 
like a chime of joy-bells. “ My true husband — not 
merely my Consort ! ” 

“ Aha — L ! ” murmured the Astrologer to himself. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 305 


“ Your very new husband, my Desire ! ” smiled 
Louis. “ Messire, you must feel honoured by my 
royal spouse’s affection for you ! Thus, on the third 
day of our wedded life she insists upon visiting 

you ” Jehanne struck in eagerly as a child to 

be first with the news: 

“ The Hermit of Chateauneuf, Father Reynier, 
united us three days ago — but we are going to keep 
this bond secret, and be wed twice, again with full 
pomp and procession, by dear Philippe de Cavaillon ; 
but we deemed it best to make our union secure ere 
any more terrors could part us, and it would take the 
Holy Father’s own power to dissolve Father Reynier’s 
knot now. But we knew that you will keep silence, 
and the Sieur de Thoramenes knows nothing beyond 
that we arrived at the Chateau together, fleeing from 
my capture by the Count of Savoy — oh, ’tis a long 
story, but you shall hear it all anon ” 

Anselme smiled and lifted a warning hand. 

“ My Queen, very little of present happenings are 
hidden from the old Seer of Secrets,” he said. “ I 
knew that you had been in great peril, but would 
escape. This by the Sight I knew, but by human 
agency I had heard of Andrea’s death, for last night 
a swift galley brought word from Naples to the 
Viguier — but only that his barons had slain him. 
Of your absence no word was said. — How now ? ” 

As he spoke a page in the De Thoramenes colours 
came out upon the loggia and fell upon one knee 
before Jehanne, tendering a silken bag sealed with the 
seal of Constantinople. 

“ The Viguier prayed me to give this to your 
Highness,” he said. “ A galley has but just come in 

with it.” 
x 


306 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


Jehanne trembled with excitement as she read the 
letter. It was written in Empress Catherine’s own 
hand, and ran : 

“ Beloved Niece, — What you may have arranged 
with the Count of Savoy, I know not, but am very sure 
that I may trust you (as ever) to do what is best for 
your kingdom, and your happiness. The Count will 
have told you how he and Roger Sanseverino, and 
Marzano, and my feeble self, have swept your hearth 
clear of your foes, and silenced your accusers, and of 
how your sister Marie wears your veil and state till 
your return. When this will reach your hand I know 
not, but as Savoy told me to address all scripts to 
Nice as your nearest castle to his stronghold, I send 
this thither, and Marzano unites with me to pray you 
return right speedily, as Naples is clamouring for you 
to enter it in triumph, and hold rejoicings over the 
driving out of the Hungarians (who are encamped 
at Capua and ravage the neighbourhood), and though 
Marie makes a fair Queen Jehanne veiled, she dares 
not play the part openly. I have very much to say 
to you, but not on parchment, so with my greeting 
to the Count of Savoy, and my dearest embracings 
for you, I am, your most loving Aunt, — Catherine.” 

Louis and Jehanne had read it, shoulder to shoulder, 
and now looked at each other and smiled the smile 
of infinite relief. 

“ Our road home is clear, beloved,” said he. “But 
my loving mother will have to welcome another 
nephew by marriage than the one she had expected ! 
Cautious stately dame ! Observe, my dearest, how 
she words the letter, so as to fit whatever may have 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 307 


befallen between you, strife or love. And how she 
and Marie have saved your flight from becoming 
known to the people. Picture her joy when she knows 
the truth — that I, Louis, am your spouse ! ” 

Jehanne clasped her husband’s arm and smiled 
with the girlish gladness of her old self, the self which 
lived and laughed before the coming of Andrea for 
the second time, as she turned to Anselme. 

“ Show us somewhat of the future, messire,” she 
said ; and he looked at her and sighed, for the Know- 
ledge of such dealers in the Unseen, as he, weighs 
heavily at times. 

“You are happy now, my Queen — why ask me 
more, for you have your High Desire beside you ? 
Still, if you must see, come hither, but blame me not ! ” 
as she protested with hasty gesture against his 
hesitation. 

Above Anselme’s villa rose a little white belvedere, 
the top storey of which was a small round room, and 
from the flat roof he could observe the stars and make 
his calculations at ease. The lower part was a larger 
room full of his books and instruments of science. 

The upper room, however, was hung with black 
velvet, and lighted by mere arrow-slits, and unfurn- 
ished save for a tall lamp-stand and four stools, set 
in a row before a mirror about six feet square, with 
strange, dim, polished surface, where weird shadows 
always flickered. 

Louis and Jehanne sat down before the black cur- 
tain which now covered it, and Anselme first darkened 
the loopholes, and then lighting the green-shaded 
lamp he took a powder in a tiny brass dish, and with a 
splinter of wood lighted it and drawing back the 
curtain flung it full in the mirror’s face in a small 


308 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


shower of sparks. Then he knelt as if in prayer 
a moment, and repeated his action. A sudden steam 
clouded the mirror which glowed as if lighted from be- 
hind, and then it cleared quickly and the beholders 
saw a picture distinctly appear. The great roof of the 
Cathedral of San Gennaro rose above a gorgeous crowd 
of knights, ladies, and priests in every kind of splendid 
array — so clearly that Jehanne thought she heard the 
music roll, felt the mounting incense, as she saw. 

A figure like herself, wearing the ruby velvet of 
Naples’ royal mantle over a white silken ^be, 
mounted the altar steps and knelt in prayer before it. 
Then clear in the streaming sunlight from the high 
windows came a counterfeit of Louis, kingly as Charle- 
magne, dazzling as the sun, in a long robe of cloth of 
gold, under a crimson mantle broidered with the 
Cross Flory of Anjou, and knelt beside her visionary 
self at the altar. 

It was so vivid, that she clasped Louis the Real the 
tighter, as she gazed spellbound, as the picture moved, 
and three priestly forms magnificent in vestment and 
bearing came forward. She knew one for Cavaillon, 
and he held high the Crown of Naples — her crown 
which she had striven to keep so long and bravely. 
And the Bishop bent forward and laid it upon Louis’s 
head ! The Prince Consort of Naples was made King 
by his wife’s wish and crowned by her Love 1 

The visionary Louis, however, beckoned to a figure 
like Guy de Montleon, who held a small, plain crown 
upon a cushion. Then with a superb dignity he took 
the Crown of Naples from his head and placed it upon 
his wife’s, then lifting the smaller circlet put it upon 
his own. 

Jehanne’s spirit leapt forward strangely, and dis- 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 309 


tinctly she heard him say : “ My Queen has had me 
crowned King of Naples, yet the Crown is hers, for the 
Queen rules the King ! We reign united in our very 
souls ! ” 

And at the chivalrous action of the King, came a 
roar as of ten thousand applauding voices, and the 
mirror clouded for a moment. 

Before Jehanne could speak or wonder, another 
picture rose. 

It showed Larga Reale crowded with revellers, 
Palazzo di Taranto and the Porta wreathed with gar- 
lands and banners, as the royal train swept under it. 
Jehanne saw herself on Eblis, and Louis on his white 
charger beside her, girt with his sword as for battle and 
clad in a white velvet tunic, gold broidered on the 
breast with the Holy Dove and its halo. His neck 
bore a strangely twisted gold cord, tied in a true lover’s 
knot, and in front of his barret chapereau with its 
small gold coronet the knot was repeated. A wreath 
of flowers fell from a house balcony by the Palazzo — 
struck Louis’s steed, which reared wildly. As it fell 
backwards he vaulted lightly down, but his leap shook 
off his chapereau, and the crown falling from it, broke 
into three pieces on the ground ! Jehanne watching 
breathless saw him smile and remount, just as the 
picture faded in the Mirror. As the visionary Louis 
passed, the real Louis clasped his wife the closer as 
silently they gazed at the fascinating dark surface 
of the glass. Sunshine glowed therein, and they saw 
the Terrace of Castel Nuovo with its white statues and 
diamond- jetting fountain in the warm air. 

From the long window skipped joyously a tiny 
figure, of a dear little fair-curled girl of perhaps six or 
seven, and Jehanne’s heart leapt suddenly. Was this 


310 JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 


her child — Louis’s child ? Mother’s instinct said her 
yea. The child trotted along the Terrace to a lemon 
tree which had far-reaching branches, and then 
Jehanne saw that in one little fist she dragged after 
her a long rope, dark on the light marble pavement. 

She could have shrieked aloud, for it was of purple 
silk — horror — What ? 

But as the thrilling question tore her, another figure 
appeared, answering the call of the child’s clapped 
hands — a gardener’s boy, who knotted the rope to a 
strong bough so that it made a swing for her ! 

Then the little maiden pushing herself off with firm 

feet swung herself up and down, faster and faster 

Suddenly the swing rose too high — and flung its 
delicate burden full on the marble edge of the steps ! 
A tiny scarlet thread running from the golden curls 
showed the horror done. 

Jehanne, her senses strung to topmost pitch, 
seemed to hear the baby lips murmur faintly : “ I was 
not naughty, Mama — I only took the old rope from the 
armoire — oh mama — mia ! ” and then — silence ! 

Jehanne, unable to see more, hid her face on her 
husband’s shoulder, sobbing wildly, just as Anselme 
swept the curtain over the Mirror, and let in the day- 
light from the windows, in startled terror. 

Then as Louis caught her to him, Jehanne realised 
that what she saw did not exist — as yet 

“ Ah, Louis beloved ! That terrible Rope — will it 
never cease to haunt my destiny? I tried to save 
Andrea at the last, and yet this thing is now to befall ! 
The barons and Amaury were too quick for me — he 
was dead — Oh — oh 1 ” 

She shuddered, but Louis strong in his manhood 
and his love, kissed her on the lips. 


JEHANNE OF THE GOLDEN LIPS 311 


“ My foolish adored ! Naught shall hurt you while 
I live ! Courage, sweetheart ! We will find and burn 
the Rope — have this future daughter of ours watched 

for ever And as to the omen of the crown falling 

from my head in our triumphal procession — why that 
means only three other lovely children to crown our 
lives ! 

“ Since we are tangled up with Ropes, you and I, I 
will make an Order of the Knot — make it one of the 
proudest Orders in Christendie ! You saw the gold 
cord round my throat in the Mirror ? The Knot 
shall be true Virtue, the bond of the Holy Spirit of 
Love in the Most High. I will make a Round Table 
of sixty Knights of the Bow, to celebrate our marriage, 
and will admit only the noblest and bravest thereto. 
The Knot of our High Desire ! So dry your tears, my 
Jehanne — and we will turn us towards Naples to- 
morrow, and when we have once gained our waiting 
loyal city, let Savoy come down as rebel if he will ! I 
will hold my wife and her Crown against the world ! 
Anselme, you will come with us, to cast a lucky day for 
my coronation ? Ah, better thus, there is sunshine 
again in your smile, my beloved ! Kiss me, my Desire ! 
I have won my Ruby Star and bound her to me by the 
golden Rope of Love at last ! ” 

And Queen Jehanne laughed up into her King’s 
eager eyes. 


THE END 


Richard Clay &* Sons, Limited, London and Bungay . 







































































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The Usurper 

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CAPTAIN DESMOND 
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Edited and arranged with an introduction by J. A. Spender. 

In 2 volumes i2mo cloth , $250 net Half morocco, $7.50 net 
Photogravure Portrait Postage 20 cents 
“ The lover of poetry cannot fail to rejoice in this handsome 
edition.” — Philadelphia Press. 

“Work which will live, one may venture to say, as long as the 
language.” — Philadelphia Public Ledger. 


POEMS WORTH HAVING 

The Poems of Samuel Taylor Coleridge 

A complete illustrated edition of the poems of the author of 
44 Christabel,” “ The Ancient Mariner,” etc. Several hitherto un- 
published poems are included in this edition. 

8vo $3.30 net Postage 23 cents 

The Poems of Ernest Dowson 

Illustrations and a Cover-design by Aubrey Beardsley. 
An Introductory Memoir by Arthur Symons, and a 
Portrait. 

“ Belongs to the class that Rossetti does, with a touch of Herrick, 
and something which is Dowson ; and Dowson alone.” — Dr. Tal- 
cott Williams in Book News . 

J2mo $1.30 net Half morocco, $ poo Postage 10 cents 

Sappho 

Memoir, Text, Selected Renderings, and a Literal Translation by 
Henry Thornton Wharton. Illustrated in Photogravure. 
New Edition. 

$2.00 net Postage so cents 

A Shropshire Lad. By A. E. Housman. New Edition 

iii.no Cloth, $1.00 net Half morocco, $3.00 net Postage 3 cents 
44 Mr. Housman’s verse has a very rare charm, due to its blending 
of a subdued and poignant sadness with the oldpagan glorification 
of the beauty and the sacredness of youth.” — The Sun, New York. 
“The best in ‘A Shropshire Lad ’ is altogether memorable; you 
cannot shake it off or quote it awry.” — Chap Book. 

44 Something to please on every page. — Brooklyn Eagle . 

The Wind Among the Reeds. By W. B. Yeats. 

i2mo $1.23 net Half morroco, $ 3.00 net Postage so cents 
“The genuine spirit of Irish antiquity and Irish folklore — the very 
spirit of the myth-makers is in him.” — Mr. William Archer. 

The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam 

Rendered into English verse by Edward Fitzgerald. With 9 
illustrations. ( Flowers of Parnassus Series.) 

Leather, 73 cents net Cloth, 30 cents net Postage 4 cents 
A Paraphrase from Several Literal Translations. By Richard 
Le Gallienne. New Edition with fifty additional quatrains. 
With Cover-design by Will Bradley. 

!2mo $ 1.30 net Postage 6 cents 


KATRINA TRASK 

Author of “ Mori et Victoria,” “Night and Morning,” etc. 

King Alfred’s Jewel. With colored frontispiece repro- 
ducing the Jewel now at Oxford. 

Third Edition. 12 mo. $1.25 net. Postage 10 cents 

“A vivid representation of Alfred as a man, strong in passion, 
high in reason, great in soul. The author’s imagination has made 
itself felt with vigor and charm. Something that needed to be 
done, and by doing it in this fashion the author has earned both 
admiration and gratitude.”— Dr. Henry Van Dyke, The Outlook . 

“The English-speaking world has waited a thousand years for a 
worthy dramatic impersonation of King Alfred. And here it is. 
. . . The play will stand not alone upon the grateful response it 
wins from the English national heart, but as a work of art. . . . 
The author is supremely a poet, the master of metaphor not less 
than of melody. ... It is a play not only to be read but to be acted- 
. . . This vivid drama is not cast in the conventional classic mold. 
It is distinctly and wholly English in spirit and form, and intensely 
modern — but breathing the air of morning, of springtime, of fresh 
adventure.” — Henry Mills Alden, The New York Times 
Saturday Review. 


T. A. DALY 

Author of “ Canzoni,” etc. 

Carmina. (Dago Dreams and Irish Blarney) New Poems. 

12 mo. $ 1. 00 net. Postage 10 cents. 

“ His Italian studies are really marvelous.” — Julian Hawthorne. 

“Verses of exceeding beauty. The joyousness and lyrical quality 
of Suckling and his associate poets. In the dialect songs the emo- 
tional Italian heart — the tender sentiment of the Irish — is ex- 
quisitely reflected in lines that are as perfect in form as in feeling.” 

— Baltimore Sun. 

“What Riley is to the homely farmers of the Middle West Daly is 
to the Italian immigrant .” — Philadelphia Inquirer. 


























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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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